Defending Descent: On Cinematic Rape and Retribution

Disclaimer: One, the conclusion of Descent starring Rosario Dawson is given away here so if you’d prefer not to have this spoiler you may look away now, but I encourage you stay for it is that conclusion which paves the way for my broader analysis. Two, this blog touches on the topic of rape which may be touchy subject for some because of their direct or indirect experience. Please know that I write this as a woman has not directly or indirectly experienced rape in reality but only through cinema. If you have experienced it, I’d encourage you–if you can–to stay and read along and add voice to this discussion so that it may be full and not lacking in perspective. Thank you for reading.

This weekend I watched a man get raped by another man and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It was in a film entitled Descent in which Rosario Dawson plays a college woman who gets raped by a man whom she thought was a potential suitor and exacts revenge by planning for the perpetrator to get raped by another man. I watched the film with a close male friend whom, during the rape scene between the two men, turned  to look at me a several times and each time my eyes were glued to the screen. He couldn’t draw my attention away from it. It was 10 minutes of violent thrusting, name-calling, and shaming and I could not be moved to either talk about how excessive it might have been or turn it off all together. After the film was over I sat on my couch in silence with my eyes still hooked on the television screen. My heart was beating quickly and my mind was running a million miles per minute. My friend commented on how excessive he thought the rape scene was and all I could remember saying is that it made sense. He repeated that he felt it was excessive for the film and still I repeated, “It makes sense.” My logic throughout the 10 minute rape scene and in conversation with my friend was that for decades we have watched women get raped in film and on television. I watched Kristy Swanson’s character Kristen get raped in John Singleton’s college campus drama Higher Learning. In the second season of a Different World Freddie Brooks almost gets raped by her date Garth Parks. I watched Buffy almost get raped by Spike. In Gossip Girl I watched Chuck Bass attempt to rape two women in one episode. In For Colored Girls Only, Yasmine/Yellow gets raped by a man whom she thought was a potential suitor. There is the rape scene in Stanley Kubrick’s Clockwork Orange which is edited out in most versions. I also hear that there is a rape scene in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in which the main female character gets raped through sodomy. When I saw each of these movies or television shows I didn’t anticipate having to sit through a rape scene, but alas I did. And sadly, these movies don’t add up to even half of the movies with rape scenes in them.

Countless are the movies and television shows in which women get raped or are in another way sexually assaulted. As a woman, I am almost too used seeing other women get defiled in the media either through the dramatic portrayal of rape, sexual assault, or through the popular coerced or voluntary objectification of women in music videos. But when I watched the rape revenge in Descent I felt something. Maybe it was redemption for all the years of women being raped in cinema and real life. To be clear, I don’t believe in this type of personal retributive justice, because in the end it most likely will not resolve anything. This is illustrated in Descent‘s final scene as Dawson turns toward the man raping her assailant and, with tears in her eyes, silently conveys that this is no revenge at all. One reviewer of the movie, called it a demagogic feminist exploitation revenge drama, but to do so is to misunderstand the project of feminism which is not employed well in this film. For it to be a true demagogic feminist exploitation revenge, the movie would not end with the man in power but would end with Dawson’s character reclaiming herself. I believe the true feminist revenge is to not let rape define and shape you into anything other than a woman who reclaims herself–but maybe I have just been reading too much Camille Paglia and the movie does indeed represent feminist revenge.

But,lest I get too far away from my original point,  I do think watching that scene, unwilling to turn my eyes away from it, made me much more certain that personal retributive justice is not what I believe in. I derived no pleasure from the scene but in refusing to take my eyes off of it, even when my friend tried to divert me, was me implicitly saying, “Sit through this, get comfortable with it,” because I have gotten comfortable with rape over the years. And yes, I admit that is part of this, that I wanted a male to sit through a scene of another male getting raped without averting his gaze, I wanted him to be comfortable with it. The day after I asked my friend if his maleness affected his ability to accept the prolonged rape scene to which he said it didn’t, he just believes that it was excessive in film and not right in reality. We also had a conversation about the possibility of females being a little more open to watching it unhindered because it could serve as cinematic redemption to the pervasive rape culture. We have no answer to the aforementioned query. So maybe my reaction was my own and not representative of what many women might find agreeable, but I am curious to know if there are any women or men out there who may find this type of revenge dramatically portrayed helpful or harmful to rape culture as we know it? If you have seen Descent what might you suggest as an alternative ending? If you are a feminist or a womanist–because I can’t neglect that a part of this film was the power dynamic between this white man and Dawson’s “ethnically ambiguous” self which he insulted during the rape–what is your response to this film? And, generally speaking, what do we make of the rape in cinema, its prevalence, its portrayal of the act, the power dynamic, etc?

Black Girl Fashion Strike

I have described myself as an intellectual wallflower and a social butterfly, but you should also know that I am something of a “single black female addicted to retail.” Maybe that is an extreme title because I don’t really spend my spare time shopping as much as do sleeping or eating, but I do love clothes. I am particular about what I wear and who it comes from, yet I am far from a label whore, just very label conscious. I don’t own any Louis, Gucci, or Prada but I can spot them from a mile away and I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope to own at least one item from each of these and other designers. But I read something today that makes me want to defer my dreams, indefinitely.

“Chanel Iman Still Hears, ‘We Already Have One Black Girl, We Don’t Need You Anymore'”

This headline from an article published in Jezebel.com focused on an interview that supermodel Chanel Iman did with the Times of London. Chanel Iman, one of the most beautiful models in the business–not “one of the most beautiful models who is black” but beautiful, period–told the Times that she still gets excused by designers because they have reached their black girl quota. For obvious reasons this is upsetting to her because the designers getting their one black model looks like a filling of a race quota instead of looking for beautiful women to wear beautiful clothing. The article goes on to document the dearth of black models in runway and print advertisements of some of the most popular fashion houses and shares word from some of the best casting agents in the business. From the latter we hear that some fashion houses–like Gucci–are looking to cast a particular type of beauty and it just so happens that that beauty is always white. Advertisers stand behind the business fact that “black models don’t sell.” At runway shows, people are lucky if they see one black model. The one black model has become the standard at some shows such as Calvin Klein who features one every other season. Of course designers themselves contrive excuses for why there aren’t more models of color based on the fact that black woman, non-white Hispanic women, or Asian women all have different body types (translation: we aren’t trying to make clothes that fit real women with shape of any kind). But none of this is new. Black models have complained about their treatment for years and their change hasn’t come.

I read the article and wondered, “What could make these designers, advertisers, casting agents, and anyone involved in the industry change their ways? And it hit me, “What if black women who, statistically speaking, are big spenders when it comes to apparel, accessories, and other non-essentials, stopped buying products from all of these designers who fail to represent them?” You vote with your money and to continue giving it to the people who don’t think enough of your beauty as a black woman is to vote “Yes” to a system of oppression–yes I went there. How is this a system of oppression? Consider it this way, the majority of black women spending their hard-earned money on Louis, Gucci, and Prada can barely afford it. And the ones who can afford it seem more interested in acquiring something that is a status symbol which proves to themselves and everybody else that they’ve “arrived.” In both cases, women are coming up off of millions of dollars to buy into a system that doesn’t see their intrinsic beauty as women, let alone as black women. Instead these designers are more than willing to profit off of the big-spending black woman and thriving off of tokenism. These women buy their designer goods, but the money in no way, shape, or form put back into their communities. The “one black girl is enough” response is not acceptable and as long as they have a quota for how many black women they put in a show, or continue to look for a particular kind of beauty that just happens to be white, we can’t continue to give them our money. Until every woman is able to see herself in a Burberry ad or on the runway of Calvin Klein–every season, or on the runways of Gucci, Prada, Fendi, Chanel, Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, etc, consistently, she should guard her wallet fiercely and take her business to someone else.

Developing a Kierkegaardian Sexual Ethic

I wrote this post a month ago while I was in the throes of passion with the Danish philosophical theologian, Soren Kierkegaard and his book Works of Love. I’ve been hesitant to post this because the implications and implementation scare me. But before I scare you with all the disclaimers, let’s just get into it.

The God-relationship is the mark by which the love for people is recognized as genuine. As soon as a love-relationship does not lead me to God, and as soon as I in the love-relationship do not lead the other to God, then the love, even if it were the highest bliss and delight of affection, even if it were the supreme good of the lovers’ earthly life, is still not true love. Kierkegaard, Works of Love

One of the claims that Kierkegaard makes throughout Works of Love is that God must be in the midst of our love lest it not be true love. In our works of love, we must always consider God because it is God who helps us know how to rightly love and order our love. Considering this, a lifetime of “love” flashed before my eyes and I thought about every person whom I ever thought I loved and, measuring that against Kierkegaard’s words above, wondered if I have ever truly loved. I also began to think about what the sexual-relationship would look like using Kierkegaard’s framework. What would happen if I took Kierkegaard’s Works of Love and applied them to sex, making it Works of Sex or Works of Sexual Love? Take this interpretation for instance,

The God-relationship is the mark by which the love for people is recognized as genuine. As soon as a sexual-relationship does not lead me to God, as soon as I in the sexual-relationship do not lead the other to God, then the sexual-relationship, even if it were the highest bliss and delight of affection, even if it were the supreme good of the lovers’ earthly life, is still not true sex.

Now bear with me. I know it may seem extreme to replace love with sex–although people do it every day–but I also think doing so is challenging. Many of us want love and, before that love, some of us want sex. This is not altogether a bad thing, for as people have so tirelessly said, “we are sexual creatures.” But, being creatures who are sexual and have desires doesn’t preclude us from thinking about how to rightly order our sexual relationships particularly so that we are leading ourselves and our partners to God, so that it is beneficial to our partner’s life and soul, and to ourselves.

In regards to the love-relationship, Kierkegaard talks about God being the middle term. As the middle term God is the mediator between the two persons and God is the being who the two should be fully aware of in all of their actions. Their actions apart from reflection on God is a detriment to each other, but the interaction with God informs their interaction with each other. Their actions should lead them to God, thus in the sexual relationship, each participant should lead the other to God. It would seem that one’s first thought would be, “Is engaging in this type of relationship going to help or harm the other’s and my relationship with God?” This requires reflection before the act  that takes into consideration what Kierkegaard would consider the highest love–love of God. He suggests that this is the most important relationship that we have and the primacy an individual gives it overflows into other relationships for the benefit of both parties. Furthermore, the idea of including God in the sexual relationship seems to require sex be about more than self-pleasure which requires a move away from self-love and a move toward a higher regard for the other, another concept that Kierkegaard addresses in Works of Love.

Kierkegaard states that self-love must be directed out and that “out” is toward God so that God may lead us to knowing how to rightly love the neighbor. In terms of the sexual relationship, this means that moving past self-pleasure, out of the realm of self-love, one is better able to discern the needs of the other. But this move is not to discern how much one thinks the other person needs to experience erotic pleasure from them because they believe they are so good at what they do, but to discern whether the other persons even needs to experience erotic pleasure in the moment at all.  This makes one’s desire to have sex not first based on desire for temporal pleasure but desire to know whether this would be beneficial for the other on, dare I say it, an eternity-seeking level.

In Works of Love, Kierkegaard also draws attention to the necessity of knowing about the condition of one’s soul. He says,

You who speak so beautifully about how much the beloved means to you or you to the beloved, remember that if a pure heart is to be given away in erotic love the first consideration must be for your soul as well as for your beloved’s! This consideration is the first and the last; from this consideration there is no separation without guilt and sin. Works of Love

Re-interpreted for the sake of this discourse, one might suggest that being concerned about the soul of the intended sexual partner becomes the first and the last question. This, by far, is one of the most challenging dimensions of this Kierkegaardian sexual ethic. How does one even begin to consider an individual’s soul? All I can think of at this moment is an old church song sung as funerals, “It is Well with My Soul.” This is not meant to conjure up images of death but it is meant to provide a baseline by which one might start their consideration of their partner’s soul. Would it be well with their soul for your two souls to become one in the sexual event? Would it be well with their soul should their sexual relationship die shortly after penetration? Is their soul well enough to handle the seriousness of that sexual relationship you are about to participate in? These aren’t just questions for the intended sexual partner but for the individual as well. The individual comes in last in this Kierkegaardian sexual ethic.

The claim that carries Works of Love is Jesus’ admonition to his disciples to keep the second and greatest commandment, “to love your neighbor as yourself.” Given this Kierkegaard believes that the person of faith must not have preferential love for anyone, including himself/herself. Of course this seems confusing in terms of the subject at hand, but what one can pull out from that concept is the fact that the individual, in Kierkegaard’s love ethic, takes a back seat to the neighbor. The person outside of the individual and nearest to the individual is the neighbor who takes precedence. Kierkegaard scholars might notice that I’ve taken a slight liberty because Kierkegaard wouldn’t advocate for giving an erotic partner neighborly consideration, but I am suggesting here that the erotic partner becomes the individual’s primary concern before themselves. At the heart of this developing Kierkegaardian sexual ethic is the individual’s ability to allow God to be the middle term of the sexual relationship and to be primarily concerned about the other before themselves. This ethic requires reflection on the rationale for wanting to participate in a sexual relationship with another that goes beyond one’s personal experience of pleasure and considers it and the other in light of God. It takes into consideration long-term possibilities over short-term pleasure, the eternal consequence over the temporal award.

So I know I just said a whole lot, but what do you think of this Kierkegaardian sexual ethic? Do you buy it? Does it even make sense? Do you feel weird about making God a part of your sexual decision? Is it possible to consider someone’s soul or is this something only God can rightly discern? Does this seems to idealistic? Does this scare you? What might you add or subtract? Let’s talk about it.

Sex & the Sanctuary 2.0

As I stated a few days ago, I’m back. I have been rejuvenated by wonderful conversations with professors and friends who have made me realize that the only way to work through my thoughts about sex and sexual ethics is to write about it. So, before I get back to the business of writing about it I thought that I would share why I am writing about it. 

I started this blog after hearing a racy spoken-word piece in a sanctuary. Though I was at odds with the words coming out of the artist’s mouth, I was also clear about the fact that if we are going to hear these words what better place to hear them than in the safe space of the sanctuary. I was clear about that fact that the conversations I wanted to have about sex and sexual ethics must be informed by multi-vocal conversation, particularly conversation that acknowledges our humanity and our divinity or spirituality. I believe that in this day and age, our conversations about sex and the sexual ethic that we employ in our lives must come out of critical engagement and reflection and nothing less. This blog will not add to the sugar-coated conversations about sex that I believe are still running rampant in the church. I am not here to wag my finger at anyone having sex either because I am well aware of the ever-increasing population of single Christians having sex. Our conversation won’t start with “No you can’t have sex,” because clearly that hasn’t worked and we all know it. I’m here to talk about the “Yes, No, and the Maybe.” I’m here to treat the topic of sex in the church with the care that it hasn’t been handled with because the previous handlers have been treating people like one-dimensional poster boards and not the three-dimensional, full-bodied like a glass of a good wine, people that we are. And lest you think I’m avoiding what the scriptures have to say about it, I’m not. We will talk about sex in the Bible since that is how the foundation has been set for many of us.

I also want to know the questions that people are asking about sex and sexual ethics. The questions that they haven’t been able to discuss in church for one reason or another. I want to create a safe space where very little is not up for discussion because, if we are a people who believe that God knows all–including our hearts and our struggles as we are wont to say–we ought to be able to communicate with God and each other about sex maturely and openly. All I ask is that you enter this space with an open heart and mind and be respectful of your fellow reader’s opinions. 

Lastly and most importantly, I don’t profess to have all of the answers but I am someone interested in learning what the answers may be with you. 

So, with all that being said, let’s get back to talking about sex and sexual ethics.