Amid the “shocking” allegations and exploits that have emerged from the recent Harvey Weinstein scandal, one response stood out above the rest. “The Big Bang Theory” star and proclaimed feminist Mayim Bialik offered her own take in her New York Times opinion piece, “Being a Feminist In Harvey Weinstein’s World,” which was met with accusations of victim-blaming and (gasp) not being a true feminist.
In her piece, Bialik indicts the entire entertainment industry for “reward[ing] physical beauty and sex appeal above all else.” She aptly expresses her contempt for Weinstein along with her lack of shock. The most controversial part of her piece, or at least the one that garnered the most attention, was the behaviors she engages in which she implies free her from unwarranted attention: “I still make choices every day as a 41-year-old actress that I think of as self-protecting and wise. I have decided that my sexual self is best reserved for private situations with those I am most intimate with. I dress modestly. I don’t act flirtatiously with men as a policy.”
I credit Bialik with providing sympathy for the victims and offering her fresh perspective as someone who identifies as not a “perfect 10.” I think it’s possible to have two conversations, one that forces men to re-evaluate how they view, approach and interact with women, and one that compels women to not rely heavily on physical beauty and sexuality. They’re not exclusive.
Bialik isn’t guilty of victim-blaming, but she engaged in something far worse: Bialik elevated herself above the victims by citing her physical appearance as the primary reason she was able to evade harassment.
The notion of respectability politics, in which members of a marginalized group attempt to conform to mainstream values and to appear less as a marginalized person, does not address larger injustices. Engaging in these conscious efforts to not be marginalized — perhaps as a coping mechanism — does not change one’s status. Bialik, no matter how she looks and dresses, operates within a patriarchal society. Bialik can censure Hollywood’s objectification of women all she wants, but she still took a job on a show that is rife with misogyny. To a viewer like myself, her character is not so much the big, bold feminist scientist her actress wishes to play, but comes off rather cold, prudish and shrewish.
She states, “As a proud feminist with little desire to diet, get plastic surgery or hire a personal trainer, I have almost no personal experience with men asking me to meetings in their hotel rooms.” To be completely honest, I’m still confused about the point Bialik is trying to make. Is she trying to conflate being a feminist with not altering one’s appearance or meeting men in hotel rooms? Does anyone who engages in these behaviors automatically disqualify as a feminist? Bialik’s specific use of feminism implies a very narrow definition.
Bialik makes a convincing argument for women to reject the male-dominated industries that regularly harass, objectify and degrade women. But if women were to make a stand against every industry that exploits them, they would never wash their hair, wear clothing or even work out at a gym. As someone who likes to do all three of these things, I still consider myself a feminist like Bialik. We believe in equal rights, equal pay and stand against the exploitation of women in all industries and institutions. But we can’t simply divorce ourselves from these sexist practices that are so engrained in our everyday lives. We can’t pick and choose which industries are feminist and which are not.
Kristen DiPietra is a senior double-majoring in English and human development.