Breaking Dawn, Part 2: Culturally Inclusive, or Culturally Insensitive?

For the first four movies of the Twilight saga, the answer to the title question is obvious: yes, this series is one of the most culturally insensitive movies about Native Americans since Disney's Pocahontas:

My face is this sad because now millions of children will think that Native Americans run
around the forest in sexy, short dresses,  paint with all the colors of the wind, and have a special ability to understand native wildlife.

While it's tempting to be hard on the high muckity-mucks who apparently engineered such cinematic missteps, especially since it's cases of racism we're dealing with, it's helpful to recall that the ignorance that causes racism is not a crime but a shame. Yes, one might indeed argue that Stephanie Meyer's portrayal of Native Americans is one-dimensional, narrow, and diminishing, but, then again, so is the entire Twilight series, to just about everyone in it (unless you happen to be a white male). Thus, it would be silly to suggest that Stephanie Meyer "has it out" for the Native Americans -- though, yes, she clearly failed to do her research and represented the Quileute tribe as both caricatures and, perhaps most offensively, actual animals (supernatural, yes, but still animals). No, instead it is a shame that Meyer did not do her research before molding an entire culture to her storytelling whims, for she could have had the opportunity to present tribal life in a much more beneficial and realistic way. The Quileute tribe actually exists, by the way, which adds a whole new level of colonial oppression and horror to the scenario. Do you see what I'm getting at? While bigoted or reductive interpretations of other cultures is upsetting, it's more of a shame (caused by ignorance, remedied by education) than a direct and pinpointed affront deserving of our critical anger. Good, now that that's clear....
Look at these pictures. They're of South American vampires Senna and Zafrina, who will be introduced in Breaking Dawn, Part 2, this November.

According to the Meyer's novel version, Senna and Zafrina arrive in Forks as representatives of "the Amazonian coven." To Meyer, it seems that the Amazon is some great, unexplored, unnamed wilderness and so one can just say people are "from the Amazon" like they're "from Africa" or "from Europe." No. Geography lesson:

See that place marked "the Amazon Basin"? It covers most of South America, 1.7 billion acres, and belongs to nine nations. But Zafrina and Senna? Who knows where, exactly, they're from. It's not important, right? It's just important that they look ethnic.

Hopefully, the movie will reveal the characters' exact origins, but so far, Zafrina and Senna roles appear to be relatively minor; they are described in various Breaking Dawn wikis and write-ups to be "from South America," which obviously is an even broader area than "The Amazon." Though we could spend quite some time on how angering that whole debacle is, let's get off of that tangent for a minute and focus on one of the most superficial issues here. To be honest, I can't believe that no one in the media has protested this yet, and by "this" I mean the attire of the so-called "South American vampire coven." Here's one of the actual stills released from Breaking Dawn, Part 2, and it's worth at least a thousand words:

Here, Zafrina (played by Judi Shekoni) and Senna (played by Tracey Heggins) are having a conversation with Bella and Edwards' offspring, Renesmee.  To put the actors' attitudes in context, here's an excerpt from an interview appearing on breakingdawnmovie.com; Judi Shekoni stated "I went to the London Zoo pretty early on and met up with Tracey [Heggins].  We came up with the idea of them [Senna and Zafrina] having these animalistic qualities.  We actually went to the LA Zoo together before we started shooting.  We looked through all the animals and decided which animal we can pick our movement from. We came up with the black jaguar, because there are a lot of them in the Amazon and they have these beautiful bright eyes that very similar to vampire eyes.  We’d go to the zoo, using video and watching the animals in real life and taking pictures, deciding which aspect.  Basically, they have a lot of power and a lot of energy in their shoulders."

There you have it: the actors came up with the idea of acting animalistic in order to portray a specific (yet unnamed) race of people, and the directors did nothing to discourage what was a potentially offensive choice -- to be honest, they probably encouraged it: "Actually, it’s quite funny on set, Stephenie Meyer came up to us at one point and said she noticed our vampires are really different from the other ones.  She really noticed us and thought it was really pure.  It was all a success for it to be noticed by Stephenie," Shekoni's concluded in the aformentioned interview. 

And finally, I get to say it: WHAT ARE THEY WEARING?

The Native American tribes of the Twilight saga aren't forced into traditional garb; why do the Amazonian coven? And is that clothing accurate? Who's to say, because we don't actually know where the characters are from, exactly. How fair is it for the producers, directors, and everyone involved in Twilight

to support an image of another race that (unfortunately, because of the minimal amount of ethnic diversity in the cinema) will unfairly be seen as representatives of their people? And why must that image be as sexualized as possible? Other vampires get to keep all their clothes on:

Interestingly, this is the only still that I could find of the whole group. I'm not sure what they're doing, maybe being stunned by their awesome whiteness.

These are issues that need to be taken more seriously in today's cinema, and I find it both disturbing and distressing that no critic has commented on such an obvious shortcoming; in a series as popular and influential to today's youth as the Twilight saga, there really is no good excuse for such a bizarre and parochial portrayal of non-white culture.  

This Just In: Hooking Up is a Culture Now!

Hey everybody, I'm thrilled that we've finally decided what to call my generation. Hanna Rosin of the Atlantic Monthly figured it all out for me in her newest article, and after reading it, I'm led to believe that I no longer belong to Generation Y, I'm not an Echo Boomer, not a Millenial or Generation Next-er. No, I am a member of what Rosin calls "the hookup culture."

Just what we needed after the romanticized "No Strings Attached" and
"Friends with Benefits" -- a vaguely authoritative article on how awesome
it is to have fun buddies during one's formational years! And let's assume,
since you're reading the Atlantic after all, that you've been to college.    

.... Really, though?

I tried to put aside my biases and read the article thoroughly, hopeful that it wasn't going to simultaneously accomplish what it's title indicated -- criticize our "oversexed" generation of Americans, and then claim that sex has a unique and defined tie to feminism/women's liberation that college women are acting out in some kind of (beneficial) body politic. But it did.

Where to start?
Well, Rosin claims from the beginning that sex and the "hookup culture" of today's age is not harmful to women at all (even younger, college women, which her article focuses on) but is actually an "engine of female progress -- driven by women themselves." I've taken this as her thesis statement, criticisms aside.

Again at that crucial beginning/hook section of her article, Rosin states that today's young women (and these are young women; again, she's largely talking about my generation, women under thirty, with a particular focus on women in college) are "proud veterans" of the hookup culture that she says, "over the past 15 years or so, has largely replaced dating on college campuses and beyond."
Now, I'm not exactly sure how Rosin determined exactly what a "proud veteran" of hookup culture looks like, especially with all the gratuitous mental images that this supposed hookup culture entails. Which raises, actually, my major criticism:
It's silly, and more than a little myopic, to assume that women are using their sex lives, even in retrospect, as motivational or formational.
It seems that it isn't Rosin's point of view that young women have found this supposedly a-la-carte sex to be somehow professionally or personally motivating through a thought-provoking experience -- rather, she appears to believe that the same young women not taking sex "seriously," hardly thinking about sex, having fewer boundaries around sex and detaching the emotional thought connection to sex, are proving in their thoughtlessness that they are empowered.

I can't right now, darling, I'm busy studying -- since I don't think about
sex all the time, I get to fill up all that extra space in my brain and maybe
accomplish things that, you know, a relationship would keep me from.

That's nonsense.
First of all, it's ridiculous to assume that sex is in the forefront of every young woman's professional and personal experiences with the world. Yes, it is a near-constant confrontation in most colleges, but  to say that "feminist progress right now largely depends on the existence of hookup culture," as Rosin does, is perhaps attributing too much power to the role of sex in the young woman's life. And it is not to be seen as a kind of liberation that some women do not participate in the hookup culture -- women have had the ability to refuse sex for years. 
Furthermore, in spite of her claims that the hookup culture is liberating, Rosin also appears impressed by the fact that women can put their life goals before sex. Again, all respect to feminist role models, this is not a new phenomenon. It shouldn't blow someone's mind that women can have sex and still keep their brain on their career or other personal goals, any more than it should blow someone's ind that women can have a career and personal goals to begin with. There's a female secretary of state, for crying out loud. There's women in congress. And you can bet that all of those women are over forty, most of them have had sex, and yet ... they maintain their success. Shocking.

And I only became the highest-ranking female politician in American
history by remembering to separate sex from my personal goals!

What we should be most concerned with, I think, is Rosin's use of "sex sells." While it's probable that she was simply trying to investigate my generation's apparent obsession, I'd challenge anyone to find a generation (ever) that hasn't been sex-crazed. Our ability to get it doesn't mean that we're mature enough to understand it, to put the experience to use, or even to have it either of the ways that Rosin believes we do. According to her, my generation has the opportunity to feel nothing about sex (how exciting...?) or to feel empowered by it. Both options severely overestimate, again, the maturity with which sex is considered by the average college student, and underestimates women's character as not purposeful without consideration of their sex lives.

image credit 1, image credit 2, image credit 3

Call Me Maybe: Your Summer Song about Courtship Conformity

All the boys only try to chase her, because she can outrun them even in those heels. True story.

Call Me Maybe, anthemically sung by everyone from Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber to the US Olympic Swimming Team, to (sort of...?) President Obama, has launched Carly Rae Jepsen’s career and ruined my summer radio.  And it’s a little difficult to look beyond that, at first – it’s upbeat, perky, and catching like a staph infection, but the saccharine pop lyrics can surely be taken at face value. Additionally, given that the song’s mercilessly mocked as much as it’s hopelessly beloved, there isn’t much new we can say. Right?

No, and no.  When examining the actual song lyrics as they compare to the instagram-esque music video, we can see that there’s more than poppy sweetness to this song – regardless of Carly Rae Jepsen’s intentions, Call Me Maybe (and its music video) reinforces outdated standards of courtship demeaning to both parties involved.
Don't believe me? Have a listen, and review the following step-by-step analysis.

So here we have Carly Rae Jepsen, wiling away her dull summer by reading romance novels and playing with her otherwise all-male garage band. Suddenly, enter love interest: the next door neighbor rippling with muscles and fulfilling all standards of conventional media masculinity. That’s where her song hits its stride:

I threw a wish in a well / don’t ask me, I’ll never tell / I looked to you as it fell / and now you’re in my way.

Yes, the ladies wish for me all the time.

Basically, Carly Rae wishes for a love, but true to conventions of courtship, cannot express her feelings to the object of her affections (don’t ask me, I’ll never tell). To play the devil’s advocate, maybe she’s just shy – there’s no need to imagine that she’s actually taking the burden of hackneyed courtship rituals. But then we get to the next few lines (after, of course, she described ripped jeans and skin showing):

Hey, I just met you / and this is crazy / but here’s my number / so call me maybe!

It’s hard to look right / at you baby / but here’s my number / so call me maybe!

Through this montage, the music video shows that as much as Carly appreciates her desires’ physical attributes, it would be improper for her to make her feelings truly known.

What are you doing?! I'm honor-bound to, like the Christian maiden
that I am, pretend that I dislike you and rebuff your advances until we are
wed! I bet this will stay in style for at least 500 more years, just wait and see, Reginald.

Here, too, we reach the crux of the problem. We’re also apparently supposed to find it crazy, out-of-this-world bizarre and quirky that Carly would dare give her number to someone and suggest that they noncommittally “call her maybe,” an offensive suggestion – Carly doesn’t come with a dowry and a chastity belt, so what exactly is the issue with her (and therefore, any woman) showing how she feels about a man? Answer: there is no issue. But doing so would superficially challenge courtship norms, in which the man is supposed to take the initiative even if, in Carly’s situation, she is doing her best to not seem interested. As the rest of the lyrics say, all the other boys / try to chase me.

Perhaps catching onto this, instead of portraying Carly as simply shy, the music video shows her as over-the-top in trying to catch the neighbor boy’s attention – she writhes and gyrates on a soapy car, making a fool of herself until she eventually blacks out.

Well, at least the car's clean. A small price to pay for a few brain cells.

By pushing the character of Carly into that of literally “a fool for love,” the music video further emphasizes the notion that it’s silly for Carly to challenge heterosexual courtship norms and continue to suggest that the neighbor boy “call her maybe.”

Thus ends the song’s assault on female empowerment, but the music video takes it a step further and tries to make a mockery of homosexual courtship as well.

After Carly’s serenaded her great love, literally performed what we’re meant to see as adorable craziness to him, she turns away to write down her number. But – what a shock! The neighbor boy gives his number to one of her bandmates.

What are we to make of this?

First of all, we can’t, no matter how hard we try, conclude that the video is attempting to make some grand gesture of acceptance toward homosexual relationships; if that were so, Carly could have been flirting with a woman the entire music video, or her bandmate could have been coached to not respond to the hot neighbor’s come-on with such a shocked and horrified expression. Instead, the music video has obviously attempted to add another layer of the ludicrous to show just how “crazy” and mixed up Carly has the potential to make people’s love lives – the hot neighbor’s attempt at love with Carly’s bandmate is a parody, and is not to be taken seriously by the viewer. Rather than actually contributing something meaningful to the cotton-candy fluff of Carly’s song, the tiny sliver of a scene merely makes a sad yet demeaning punchline to an already disappointingly conformist song. That's all, you can go back to trying to enjoy the music now.

"Political Animals" misses the Title Mark

Am I the only one to think that everything in this title should be in the same size font as "MOTHER"?

Within this election year (is it really a coincidence?) “smart” television shows have made a startling yet pleasing comeback, and one of those top shows is USA Network’s Political Animals. The series, now on its fifth episode, focuses on the struggles of a political family a cross between the Kennedeys and the Clintons, that lives in and out of an alternate universe White House in which Adrian Pasdar looks oddly presidential and it’s evidently plausible that Americans voted for an Italian to lead the greatest nation on earth. Apart from starring Sigourney Weaver, a feminist favorite ever since her iconoclastic roles in just about every science fiction movie since 1979’s Alien, the aggregate acting talent of the remaining cast smooths out a show that is still relatively rough around the edges. The heady ensemble of characters don’t have to be talking politics to hold the viewer’s attention or make an impact, as the scene-stealing Ellen Burstyn proves as the alcoholic mother of Elaine Barrish.

"They never let me speak on record," Burstyn's Margaret
proclaims, a martini in her hand. "I'm always too drunk, or
too honest, or God forbid, both."           

And it’s a good thing that the characters don’t talk politics, because that’s an evidently huge gap in the knowledge of the writers of the show. Elaine’s Secretary of State title actually seems to denote a dedication less to foreign affairs in and of themselves but rather “extreme humanitarianism” work that forces her to save others – one week, forced to go outside the payroll of the White House to save three kidnapped journalists, the next, convincing the president to provide aid to a woefully downed Chinese sub filled with a helpless crew (in both scenarios, Ellen is cast as  the only person to understand the importance of a human life, a singularity underscored by continuous references and flashbacks to her son TJ’s attempt at suicide). Had true political knowledge been bestowed on all Political Animals characters, then the show would have more to run on than what quickly becomes the fumes of antifeminism – for Ellen, as an unintentional figurehead for working women the world over, does not debate and take advantage of the machinations of the political system. Instead, she quickly goes outside the box of the government she could use to her advantage in order to “mother” away at foreign affairs difficulties, ardently proclaiming what is right and wrong in whatever situation happens to have reached her attention rather than lobbying, consulting her colleagues, or ever letting the viewer know just how much government power is at her disposal.  

Carla Gugino's journalist, Susan Berg, was clearly meant
to bring a context and translate politics for the viewer;
however, Political Animals lack of politics forces the
impression that  she's not the hardened reporter we want her
 to be, but little more than an empathetic gossip columnist.

Thus, the Political Animals title seems like a teasing misnomer as politics quickly takes a backseat to the dramas of Elaine Barrish’s life. Again, the writers have made the decision that it’s ultimately most important to Elaine’s story that we delve into her personal life as well, to understand what motivates and hinders such a powerful woman and to, perhaps, further remind the viewer that Elaine is indeed a woman who cannot step outside the bounds of traditional feminine roles. Elaine as a Politician is portrayed as inseparable from her role as Elaine the Mother, Elaine the Divorcee, and Elaine the Daughter, and the show becomes such a complex puzzle of those sometimes purposefully contradictory roles, that the most we ever learn of politics is that all politicians ever talk about is their former terms or their plans to run again. Even Elaine’s plans to run again for president have less to do with broad political decisions and more to do, again, with her “extreme humanitarianism” and her attempts to fulfill the role of moral center.

Why do I always have to be the one with a heart and feelings to guide
my hand? It's because I'm a typecast matriarch, isn't it? 

As the show develops, it’s likely that the requisite family dramas will become ever more intense, regrettably obscuring the powerful role that Weaver’s Barrish could take on. Practically speaking, we’re a nation obsessed with the American elite that the Barrish family is based on, so of course we find the “insider” drama of Political Animals irresistible. As long as we’re getting our gossipy fill of the meat of a political family dish, with skilled actors accomplishing the seasoning, perhaps we’ll be able to ignore the fact that Political Animals contains some disastrous substitutions for a few key ingredients. 

Stay tuned, my next Political Animals post will probably focus on the show's highlighted roles of sex, sexuality, and gender.

Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games Trilogy is Anti-war and Anti-government?

From the beginning of the Hunger Games, I imagine it’s fairly easy for readers to get caught up in the pageantry, the romance, the intrigue of the Games and Katniss Everdeen’s war against the Capitol. This is so much the case that readers tend to laud the books for their strong heroine, their encapsulated and far-fetched view of teen romance (more than one man wants me at once! Whatever shall I do? It’s a tale as old as time), that the same readers don’t see through to what is probably the most important messages of the trilogy: War is Bad and so is Controlling Government. According to Collins’ narrative, those two things actually go hand in hand, as when in the last book the Capitol’s power begins to disintegrate, District Thirteen takes an even greater interest in war-mongering. And Katniss has demonstrated through her regret at the death of her friends and countrypeople, the destruction of her homeland and the murder of her sister, that the violence and so-called casualties of war are exactly what makes war so undesirable.

Thus, at the end of the Hunger Games, we find Katniss in a position strikingly similar to that of a veteran who didn’t want to serve a second term after the horrors of a first. To carry this rusty metaphor further, Katniss began the 74^th Hunger Games in the position of a drafted soldier, but a soldier grudgingly willing to follow orders (orders that she set herself, yes, but orders reinforced by the “kill-or-be-killed” rules of the Hunger Games) and she promises her sister that she will, in fact, “Really, really try” to win the Games. She consoles herself with Gale’s advice that if she forgets the other tributes are human, than she won’t have any trouble killing them at all. From there on, it’s perhaps too easy to excuse Katniss’s actions of murder: she’s defending herself, her sister, and the people she kills have been manufactured by Collins to be real villains, seen as fully-formed killers and baddies while Katniss retains her purity as a girl who’s been forced to grow up too soon in a situation one of her age should never be in. 

Old enough to kill people, old enough to become
reluctant figurehead of a rebel army, I always say.

As the novels develop, Collins allows Katniss to maintain this innocence and bewilderment towards horrors of violence, victimizing her character at every turn with the crushing control of first the Capitol, and then through a wary alliance with District Thirteen.

Thus, at the end of Mockingjay, the final book of the Hunger Games trilogy, veteran Katniss is quite literally battlescarred, a recluse, terrified of what the future may hold, refusing to play any part in the new system of government installed and well aware that more violence is likely just around the corner, for as Plutarch says, “We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.” In this way, Collins’ Katniss rounds off her argument about the horror of war and the unnecessary control of government.

What is the greatest challenge to Collins’ dilution of an anti-war, anti-government trilogy? There always is one. In this case, there’s going to be three huge ones: the movies. The small message Collins did create by her trilogy will not translate into the trilogy of Hunger Games movies, blockbusters though those movies may be, for the movies are at their basic level an insult to the readers of the books – by watching the movies, the readers become the very spectators of Hunger Games and violence, fans of the Hunger Games and supporters of the tribute Katniss, we've been educated by Collins’ trilogy to dislike. In an unfortunate turn of events, stardom, screenwriting, and popularity have tragically caused the Hunger Games books to be regarded with the same youth angst and enjoyment as Twilight and Harry Potter, examples that do not carry the same enduring message through their sequels. Collins spent three whole novels criticizing the controlling viewers of the Hunger Games; with the movies, we're all made into hypocrites.

We could be starving, we could be homeless, AND we could be broke, and I would still love you, probably for the same reason that I don't see the relation of those three conditions. 

What Fifty Shades of Grey Is Telling Readers

Fifty Shades of Grey. Unless you’ve spent your summer under a rock, I’m going to assume you’ve heard of it, though not as an astounding work of literature. If the average person was presented with the first page of the James’ novel, it would be easy (I hope, in an incredibly optimistic view of our national literacy rate) for said reader to immediately grasp a single fact about E.L. James’ work: its genesis has not done it any favors. Which is to say, of course, that a novel first published online and even now in published in print hasn’t been graced with the skills of a professional editor. Perhaps, under the criticism and therefore tutelage of any editorial giant, James would have ameliorated what are the easily spotted as the greatest (technical) errors of her work:

The woefully thinly veiled reference to Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight:

"I'm not afraid. Thankfully, my character isn't developed enough."

And, even worse than that of the Twilight series itself, the E. L. James appears to have written the next bloody chapter in the war on grammar and syntax.

Seriously, how can anyone concentrate on the sex scenes with all that bad grammar?

However, it is those things that make E.L. James’ work a target. And you know what? That’s not the target I’m going for. Like it or not (and I most definitely do not) Fifty Shades of Grey is a novel that has already made an impact on our national psyche. Deny it all you want, but I know it’s certainly scarred my psyche; I have at long last lost all respect for the New York Times bestseller list. At this point in time, every sign indicates that Fifty Shades of Grey is here to stay, and it’s at this very stage that we should find it in ourselves to cease criticizing James’ torture of the English language. Instead, it’s we should analyze whether the effect of James’ work perpetuates negative or positive messages by proxy of its characters – if for nothing else, to prove that we can be mature readers even if there’s a significant lack of mature writers. To criticize those already obvious errors that riddle Fifty Shades of Grey is a distraction from the greater purpose and depth of James’ intent, and (come on, people) gives us an easy way out. Challenge yourself to ask: What does James’ Fifty Shades of Grey tell the reader?  And once we have determined that: What is gained (or lost) by reception of James’ perceived viewpoint?

Here are some (brief) summarizations of James’ intent as characterized by her main character, Anastasia Steele. You’ll notice, I hope, that I said “main character” instead of “heroine.” There’s a reason for that, which leads us to our first summarization of What Fifty Shades of Grey Tells Us:

1)      Emotional and Physical Dependency is a key aspect of any relationship, especially relationships between men and women

Any way you slice it, Anastasia’s supposed romance with Christian is bound (har har har) to her dependency on him. Anastasia doesn’t just want Christian Grey sexually. She needs him emotionally, and is constantly, brutally rebuffed. It is this very combination of neediness from Anastasia and emotional/sexual distance from Christian which means that Anastasia’s relationship with Christian is emotionally abusive.

Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from my near miss with the cyclist to the heady proximity to Christian, leaving me wired and weak. NO! my psyche screams as he pulls away, leaving me bereft. He has his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length, carefully watching my reactions. And the only thing I can thinks it that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and he didn’t do it. He doesn’t want me. He really doesn’t want me. I have royally screwed up the coffee morning (50).

A few pages later, we find Ana crying in a parking garage because of this incident, as she wished to be kissed by Christian and he did not take the masculine initiative to do so. Take a note, James’ BDSM material hasn’t even entered into this equation (whether it should or should not is another, more complex argument). With Anastasia as a main character, James attempts to “normalize”  behavior, indicating that Anastasia’s dependency on Christian, her emotional responses (crying, anxiety, outpourings of sorrow) and psychological responses (guilt, self-blame) make sense and are to be expected in a relationship, especially if one is lucky to have a relationship with Christian Grey.

Damaging themes run throughout Fifty Shades of Grey, and to call them out without justification feels like yet another cop-out. Fifty Shades of Grey is not a complex book, but it presents themes that call for an incredibly complex analysis of both James’ intent and the readers’ assumption. Thus, simply choosing a fact that to the seasoned reader should appear fairly obvious (James seeks to normalize the emotionally abusive relationship) is positively childs-play. But critically examining that fact (what is gained (or lost) by James’ viewpoint?) is much more nebulous. 

Is this a gain? Women looking for men who act like Christian Grey?

As a result, I was not challenged by reading Fifty Shades of Grey, yet I have been challenged here by what damaging theme to push to the forefront of analysis. The normalization of emotionally abusive relationships eventually was the dubious winner of the contest, perhaps because it is the most visible of the issues, but I’m not sure that prioritizing it is fair. After all, how to choose between that theme and the themes of homophobia, physical abuse, emphasis on purity/corruption, and antifeminism? There is, unfortunately, no right answer, as James' characters of Fifty Shades of Grey seek to systematically legitimize each.

Thoughts? Requests for the next theme for analysis? Post them in the comments section below.