The Grope Seen Around the World
The Grope Seen Around the World
Sexual objectification is serious, regardless of gender
The 2022 Oscar ceremonies have become infamous for the “slap heard around the world.” For those unaware: during the live broadcast, Chris Rock made a public joke about Jada Smith (Will Smith’s wife), which prompted a vitriolic response—involving both physical and verbal violence—from Mr. Smith. For now, I’m leaving my thoughts on that incident on the backburner (although I like this brief think piece posted by Samuel D. James).
What has received less attention—though it certainly hasn’t been ignored—was a particular running gag of co-host Regina Hall. Touting her status as an available single woman, she called some eligible bachelors to the stage, on whom she then lavished some randy attention. (It involved insinuations that these men needed to go backstage and get naked so she could perform a random COVID test on them with her tongue.) At another point in the evening, she administered an ostensibly impromptu security “pat-down” on Josh Brolin and Jason Momoa, sliding her hands over various parts of their bodies.
All of this was staged for comedic purposes, of course. And a lot of people laughed. Even Brolin and Momoa seemed willing to play along.
But in the words of Slashfilm writer BJ Colangelo,
Unless the actors themselves speak out, it’s difficult for us to know who all consented to be called on for the bit taking place. While the participating individuals may have had no issue with the premise of the joke, watching Hall parade a group of men on stage only to objectify them and physically body check them was genuinely upsetting to watch.
Colangelo even goes so far as to say Hall’s antics “plummeted into a normalization of sexual harassment.” She continues:
Hollywood has a horrific history of turning a blind eye toward the sexual assault against women, and seeing an Oscar host grope and objectify a group of men on a public stage for the entire world to see, set to a chorus of uproarious laughter, contributes to this systemic issue.
Others have shared similar sentiments. Film critic Jeff Huston describes Hall’s “being horny” gag, and the pat-down in particular, as “most egregious.” Cultura Colectiva writer Mariana R. Fomperosa echoes the accusation of sexual harassment, in that Hall “[stripped the men onstage] of their value as actors.” And Piers Morgan points out that “if a man did that [to a group of women], he’d be immediately cancelled.”
In fact, after watching that segment of the Oscars myself, I couldn’t help but think that the following monologue would have fit perfectly with Hall’s comedy skit:
You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful men. I just start petting them. It’s like a magnet. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star they let you do it. Grab them by the tushy. You can do anything.
If those words sound familiar, it’s because they’re a slightly paraphrased version of some infamous lewd remarks made by Donald Trump—comments for which he (rightly) got raked over the coals. Hall may not have said the exact things that Trump did, but her words and actions had the same jovially demeaning spirit.
So why did Hall’s comedy sketch get a pass (generally speaking)? Part of the answer, of course, is that Smith’s angry response to Rock has dominated news outlets and social media. But there’s more to it than that.
Our culture has adopted an explicit “eye for an eye” stance toward sexual violence and harassment. Because women have been the victims for so long, many believe it’s time, not for the injustice to end, but for the tables to turn.
The inimitable Shannon Stewart1 has addressed this problem in her blog post “Rape, Revenge, and Gender Inequality.” I need not delve into the issue too much myself because she does an excellent job. In fact, I encourage you to read the entire piece.
For my purposes, I will simply reiterate one point from her post. She quotes from a letter written by J. R. R. Tolkien, in which he says, “You can’t fight the Enemy with his own Ring without turning into an Enemy.” This principle is expertly illustrated throughout Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings: using an evil source of power only serves to turn you evil—even if your intentions are just and true and good.
As Shannon points out:
[W]omen are objectified far more often than men in films. . . . [But] I emphatically disagree that the solution is to give men a taste of what’s been done to women. The problem is not men, or women. The problem is objectification. You don’t solve objectification through objectification: instead, you simply replace the one who’s doing the crime.
She ends her piece this way:
Tolkien writes fantasy, but he has his finger on the pulse of reality. If such a victim did get enough power actually to hurt her oppressor in the way she had been hurt, it would make her the monster, no longer worthy of pity.
I have been more sympathetic to the MeToo movement than many of my conservative counterparts. I’m all for exposing sexual predators and giving justice to victims of sexual violence and sexual harassment. Protesting that MeToo has subverted due process (not an illegitimate concern, to be sure) gives at least the appearance of ignoring the reality that victims have historically gone without due process themselves.
Nevertheless, if MeToo is to have real staying power, and if Hollywood wishes to do more than merely signal its virtue, it needs to address the hypocrisy of many of its adherents. We can’t bemoan male sexism while belly-laughing over female sexism.
That’s not justice. That’s just replacing one form of injustice with another.
Full discloser: Shannon is my wife