Ariel Levy - Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture

I first noticed it several years ago. I would turn on the television and find strippers in pasties explaining how best to lap dance a man to orgasm. I would flip the channel and see babes in tight, tiny uniforms bouncing up and down on trampolines. Britney Spears was becoming increasingly popular and increasingly unclothed, and her undulating body ultimately became so familiar to me I felt like we used to go out.

Charlies Angels, the film remake of the quintessential jiggle show, opened at number one in 2000 and made $125 million in theaters nationally, reinvigorating the interest of men and women alike in leggy crime fighting. Its stars, who kept talking about strong women and empowerment, were dressed in alternating soft-porn stylesas massage parlor geishas, dominatrixes, yodeling Heidis in alpine bustiers. (The summer sequel in 2003in which the Angels perilous mission required them to perform stripteasespulled in another $100 million domestically.) In my own industry, magazines, a porny new genre called the Lad Mag, which included titles like Maxim, FHM, and Stuff, was hitting the stands and becoming a huge success by delivering what Playboy had only occasionally managed to capture: greased celebrities in little scraps of fabric humping the floor.

This didnt end when I switched off the radio or the television or closed the magazines. Id walk down the street and see teens and young womenand the occasional wild fifty-year-oldwearing jeans cut so low they exposed what came to be known as butt cleavage paired with miniature tops that showed off breast implants and pierced navels alike. Sometimes, in case the overall message of the outfit was too subtle, the shirts would be emblazoned with the Playboy bunny or say PORN STAR across the chest.

Some odd things were happening in my social life, too. People I knew (female people) liked going to strip clubs (female strippers). It was sexy and fun, they explained; it was liberating and rebellious. My best friend from college, who used to go to Take Back the Night marches on campus, had become captivated by porn stars. She would point them out to me in music videos and watch their (topless) interviews on Howard Stern . As for me, I wasnt going to strip clubs or buying Hustler T-shirts, but I was starting to show signs of impact all the same. It had only been a few years since Id graduated from Wesleyan University, a place where you could pretty much get expelled for saying girl instead of woman, but somewhere along the line Id started saying chick. And, like most chicks I knew, Id taken to wearing thongs.

What was going on? My mother, a shiatsu masseuse who attended weekly womens consciousness-raising groups for twenty-four years, didnt own makeup. My father, whom she met as a student radical at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, in the sixties was a consultant for Planned Parenthood, NARAL, and NOW. Only thirty years (my lifetime) ago, our mothers were burning their bras and picketing Playboy, and suddenly we were getting implants and wearing the bunny logo as supposed symbols of our liberation. How had the culture shifted so drastically in such a short period of time?

What was almost more surprising than the change itself were the responses I got when I started interviewing the men andoftenwomen who edit magazines like Maxim and make programs like The Man Show and Girls Gone Wild. This new raunch culture didnt mark the death of feminism, they told me; it was evidence that the feminist project had already been achieved. Wed earned the right to look at Playboy; we were empowered enough to get Brazilian bikini waxes. Women had come so far, I learned, we no longer needed to worry about objectification or misogyny. Instead, it was time for us to join the frat party of pop culture, where men had been enjoying themselves all along. If Male Chauvinist Pigs were men who regarded women as pieces of meat, we would outdo them and be Female Chauvinist Pigs: women who make sex objects of other women and of ourselves.

When I asked female viewers and readers what they got out of raunch culture, I heard similar things about empowering miniskirts and feminist strippers, and so on, but I also heard something else. They wanted to be one of the guys; they hoped to be experienced like a man. Going to strip clubs or talking about porn stars was a way of showing themselves and the men around them that they werent prissy little women or girly-girls. Besides, they told me, it was all in fun, all tongue-in-cheek, and for me to regard this bacchanal as problematic would be old-school and uncool.

I tried to get with the program, but I could never make the argument add up in my head. How is resurrecting every stereotype of female sexuality that feminism endeavored to banish good for women? Why is laboring to look like Pamela Anderson empowering? And how is imitating a stripper or a porn stara woman whose job is to imitate arousal in the first placegoing to render us sexually liberated?

Despite the rising power of Evangelical Christianity and the political right in the United States, this trend has only grown more extreme and more pervasive in the years that have passed since I first became aware of it. A tawdry, tarty, cartoonlike version of female sexuality has become so ubiquitous, it no longer seems particular. What we once regarded as a kind of sexual expression we now view as sexuality. As former adult film star Traci Lords put it to a reporter a few days before her memoir hit the best-seller list in 2003, When I was in porn, it was like a back-alley thing. Now its everywhere. Spectacles of naked ladies have moved from seedy side streets to center stage, where everyonemen and womencan watch them in broad daylight. Playboy and its ilk are being embraced by young women in a curious way in a postfeminist world, to borrow the words of Hugh Hefner.

But just because we are post doesnt automatically mean we are feminists. There is a widespread assumption that simply because my generation of women has the good fortune to live in a world touched by the feminist movement, that means everything we do is magically imbued with its agenda. It doesnt work that way. Raunchy and liberated are not synonyms. It is worth asking ourselves if this bawdy world of boobs and gams we have resurrected reflects how far weve come, or how far we have left to go.