If you’ve heard about the backlash targeted at Lena Dunham recently, than you may have read a myriad of reactions to one singular passage Dunham describes in her memoir, Not That Kind of Girl . Dunham recounts an episode as a seven-year old where she touched her sister’s genitals and allegedly found pebbles therein — supposedly put there by the younger sibling as a prank. The description is graphic, visceral, and perhaps asks more questions than it answers about Dunham’s childhood, despite her claim that this was among the things she would do.
On the whole this anecdote reads with the kind of dreamy retrospective quality one would give telling a cute story about one’s youth. One of those, “Oh, remember when Lena did that embarrassing thing that was so very her, but so very quirky-fun!” All nostalgia, with little ownership taken by parents or child for questionable actions that deserved more attention than was given at the time. While certainly eyebrow-raising for its depiction alone, this isn’t the passage that had many worrying about Dunham’s intentions as a younger girl when it came to interacting with her sister several years her junior. Yet, this is the passage many Dunham supporters attached themselves to in their defense of the writer/actress. Perhaps it’s because this passage just may be the safer of passages to defend because it seems the most over-the-top, and by negating it for its absurdity maintains that Dunham can solidly remain clear of larger quandary. However, to another group of feminists, it is this very passage in addition to a few others that squarely put Dunham in the hot seat when it came to looking at her as someone who not only objectifies women, but who, albeit in her youth, would seek to exploit, endanger, and use another female for personal gain. So who’s right?
Sure, it’s true that women are still trying to find their foothold in many parts of the creative industry. Whether it’s in television, film, art, or writing, there are still barriers that must be broken, and there are still those pioneers and brave sojourners who will strike out and blaze a trail for others left behind, at the risk of their own agency. These individuals should be supported as much as can be for turning standards on their heads and asking for more and better. However, that does not mean that every part of those game changers should be championed full stop if it isn’t warranted. Humans are flawed. And when something isn’t right, it just isn’t. And we’ve got to know how to say that about those persons we admire. And to say it in the right way. That means we shouldn’t just shrug our shoulders and continue backing someone who may have crossed the line, if not run right up to it, of harming others. No matter their gender. Bill Cosby is another prime example. Not that Dunham’s transgressions in and of themselves take the form of rape or rape culture as some would posit. However, those we herald for their strides against the status quo shouldn’t be buoyed indiscriminately just because it’s fervently believed that their contribution to the greater good outweighs those things that deserve closer scrutiny. And yes, it seems fair that if you’re going to put yourself out there while recounting events in your life — scrutiny will be part and parcel.
Here’s another passage from Dunham’s memoir.
“As she grew, I took to bribing her for her time and affection: one dollar in quarters if I could do her makeup like a “motorcycle chick.” Three pieces of candy if I could kiss her on the lips for five seconds. Whatever she wanted to watch on TV if she would just “relax on me.” Basically, anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl I was trying. “
The fact that Dunham in this passage flippantly and comedically discusses “what a sexual predator might do” is triggering. At best it’s insensitive with regard to what the millions who have faced actual sexual predators have experienced. At worst, it’s making light of the actions criminal sex offenders employ to get their victims to acquiesce to their whims. Somewhere in the middle may be the uninformed ramblings of a much protected young woman who has never really faced the horrors of sexual abuse, and is content to look at what she believes it might be to perpetrate such an event from a distance, and with humor to boot. There is a level of grandiose navel-gazing here that totally puts Dunham into a place where others only serve to fill the gaps in her own diatribes and meandering thoughts. And from a feminist standpoint is this defensible, or should it be called out for some level of irresponsibility?
In another quote from the memoir Dunham goes on to say:
“I shared a bed with my sister, Grace, until I was seventeen years old. She was afraid to sleep alone and would begin asking me around 5:00 P.M. every day whether she could sleep with me. I put on a big show of saying no, taking pleasure in watching her beg and sulk, but eventually I always relented. Her sticky, muscly little body thrashed beside me every night as I read Anne Sexton, watched reruns of SNL, sometimes even as I slipped my hand into my underwear to figure some stuff out. Grace had the comforting, sleep-inducing properties of a hot-water bottle or a cat.”
This is the excerpt that caused the most concern for many feminists. This is also the excerpt that some of Dunham’s feminist supporters at high profile blogs like Salon and Jezebel chose to either omit altogether, or have stated as Emily Gould has, “Dunham…includes descriptions of masturbating in bed next to her sleeping sister (who hasn’t?),” or those like Roxane Gay who went on to call her “gutsy” and “audacious.” Dunham has always been viewed to be in the category of the latter, both gutsy and audacious, and even creative and a brilliant thinker. There does seem to be some truth to that. She is adept at pushing the envelope by giving voice to many of our innermost thoughts, be they a little twisted, a little off-color, or too uncomfortable for some, or too societally insouciant. And the question has been raised about whether or not one can do this, meaning having the freedom to do what Dunham does, to say what she says, if her race and privileged background were not a crucial part of her make up?
There is undoubtedly a carefree nature in which Dunham goes about her art and life that women of color have not been able to attain thus far in the public sphere. There have been various arguments about whether or not Dunham should address that fact as part of the new wave of feminism she’s attempting to usher in. One that brings an end to the judging that goes along with the inner workings, or in the words of Ti-Grace Atkinson how, “Sisterhood is powerful. It kills. Mostly sisters.”
Is she responsible for carrying the torch for a group of women that she frankly hasn’t the ability to sympathize with? Empathize, sure. But can Dunham discuss with anyone the plight of being a WOC and what those needs are from the feminist community? At twenty-eight and not falling into this group, this may be beyond Dunham’s scope and should be left to those who can succinctly add to this conversation.
But if we were to strip all of this away, this in-fighting amongst feminist groups, gratuitously given, these mostly white feminist groups, and we were to morph Dunham’s own actions into those penned by a male. What ultimately do we think if we go by the tenets of feminism where it’s about giving women equal opportunity, equal voice, equal power. Would the support that seems to be flung Dunham’s way still be the same?
Let’s look at several of the things Dunham has said and change the gender identifier from her to him. As a male child, what if Dunham had spread his sister’s vagina apart, what if Dunham had dressed his sister up as a motorcycle chick to make her “sexual property?” What if Dunham had given his sister candy in order to kiss her on the lips longer, or gave her whatever she wanted if she would just “relax” on him longer? In fact, what if Dunham describes, now as an adult, how he would “do anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl?” And lastly, Dunham removed all of his sister’s agency and outed her as gay, after as a youth, having bribed her for kisses, touched her genitals, masturbated in bed with her, dressed her up as sexual property, and gave her whatever she wanted so he could feel her body on his longer?
What do we say now?
No, I’m not going to scream to the rafters that Lena Dunham is a child molester; however, I will say that some of her actions as a young person seem to straddle the line of inappropriate — perhaps not totally inappropriate for childhood exploration, but so for an adult retelling those experiences. At its core there is a thread of power here that gives one reading the passages the feelings of violation on behalf of Dunham’s sister. Not just power Dunham exhibits when they were children, but this not-so-subtle bit of it that is unabashed in the recounting of these stories where the explicit power is at the forefront. And this speaks to the uneasy feelings of abuse we view therein. This blog post by QuadCity Pat, describes how the language and actions throw up red flags in Dunham’s treatment of her sister then and now — which is for Lena, her sister, and their therapist to parse. However, if Dunham is using her own celebrity and career success to heighten and trigger some of the worst things in humanity, unchecked, that’s not okay. And it’s not about taking from Dunham or tarnishing her feminist icon status, her millennial voice, or her right to recount her private life publicly if she so chooses.
It is about being responsible and accountable to women and abuse survivors now, and to the young people she and her sister were, by not belittling sexual abuse, or using it as fodder for book sales, just for shock sake. And to Dunham’s defenders, it’s not about making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s about being able to tell your heroes, and your torch bearers that some things need clarity and due diligence, and you’ve gotta take ownership of it by recognizing the impact, and doing so doesn’t mean you’re a bad feminist — just a complex person who maybe is still growing at age twenty-eight– so a little guidance from those a bit more mature and world-savvy is applicable. But also to those who would like to see Dunham named a child molester, there is just enough gleeful disregard in Dunham’s word choices that makes it apparent that she may not have it all figured out yet — this whole seeing the world from the outside in, instead of the inside out thing. This comes with age, wisdom, experience, life, love, death, failure, fear, triumph, and understanding. She’s got a ways to go, so that’s why this has probably been more of a wake up call than you realize. If not before, she now gets that words have power, they move people, they can shake people, and ultimately they can define you despite our best or most authentic intentions.