feminism

Benjamin Franklin may have been right when he said that there were only two certainties in life- death and taxes- but Benjamin Franklin wasn’t a woman. If you identify as female, then chances are you’ve worn makeup at some point in your life, whether it be a simple smattering of lipstick, or the full face. However, if you’re a man, it’s more likely that you haven’t spent a dime on a makeup product, let alone even touched one. I think you can see where I’m going with this.

Makeup is a reality of life for women in many countries across the world, so much so that it’s weirder when a woman chooses not to wear makeup than it is for a woman to choose to spend an hour or more putting it on every morning. A recenty survey done by TODAY and AOL revealed that women spend an average of 55 minutes getting ready every day, which adds up to a whopping two weeks (!) of time every year! While there are plenty of other things that go into getting ready, it seems logical to assume a good chunk of that time is spent crafting that perfectly made up face that society has come to expect from us.

And it’s not just time that makeup demands- it’s money, too. A lot of it. A survey conducted by online makeup retailer SkinStore revealed that the average woman will spend $300,000 on makeup in her lifetime. That’s a hefty chunk of change, an amount that my entry-level-salaried mind can’t really comprehend. It keeps getting more expensive with time, too, as the makeup industry explodes and every celebrity and influencer with even an ounce of relevance throws their hat in the ring with their own makeup lines. It’s instant money, because makeup is seen as something women need.

While most women don’t bat their mascara-ed eyelashes at these staggering figures, I find it insane. These are commitments of time and money that are just not expected of men, and there isn’t really anything equivalent to it that men are asked to do that women aren’t. And it seems like we’re just okay with it, because that’s the way that society has conditioned us to be.

The default woman in the media is one wearing makeup. Some celebrity gossip magazines find it newsworthy when a celebrity is photographed without makeup. While there are no legal consequences for choosing to not wear makeup, the choice to go bare-faced can carry social consequences that can have lasting effects in a woman’s life, including with her career. All because there is the preconceived notion that a woman that has her life together is one that wakes up and puts makeup on every morning- a notion that can cause people to react negatively, consciously or subconsciously, to the site of a woman without makeup.

While our culture has made great strides in the fight for gender equality, I still find myself shocked by just how regressive some aspects of our society can be. It was in one of my business classes that I first realized the extent of how deep some sexist ideas are really rooted, when the professor was going into proper interview attire for men and women. While the men’s list included all of the things you might expect- button-up shirt, slacks, tie, dress shoes, well-kept hair, etc.- the women’s list had an additional requirement: Lipstick. It irked me, and I had to keep myself from scoffing out loud, but I chalked it up to the professor being an old man that might have been behind on the times. That was, until I took another business class that listed the same thing, but went even further, explaining it was needed to give the impression that you really cared about your appearance. I can’t make this stuff up, folks. And to make matters worse, this class was taught by a woman. I was mad.

While my anger only went as far as complaining to my friends about it, it stuck with me, which is why I’m writing this now. I don’t want to be judged by the artificial color of my lips, or whether or not my eyelashes stand out. I don’t want people to ask me if I’m tired or sick if I’m not wearing a fake face. I don’t want to be seen as sloppy just because I didn’t spend painstaking amounts of time making myself pretty in ways that men don’t have to, to achieve the same respect. I want to be judged for my knowledge, my work, my personality, my skills, the content of my character.

It just seems unfair to have to fight against those frivolous expectations. And even though I no longer feel pressured by society at large to wear makeup regularly (something that took years to be truly comfortable with), it still bugs me to know that to some, I am classified as “That Girl That Doesn’t Wear Makeup.” Some women may find joy and “empowerment” in wearing makeup, but a great many just feel an obligation. Until there is no longer that insane amount of pressure that caused me to beg my mom to buy me makeup in middle school so I could fit in, and that causes universities to feel the need to teach professional women that they must wear makeup to gain respect, then I can’t see it as anything but a sexist standard to be fought against.

It seems, to society, that there are few things more simultaneously fascinating and terrifying than a witch. As a woman with unmatched power and strength to protect herself and her sisters, the witch has become a powerful symbol of the mysteries of womanhood and female empowerment, a theme that is entangled at the core of Luca Guadagnino’s 2018 remake of the 1977 Dario Argento cult classic, Suspiria.

If you haven’t seen the film, and want to, I would not read any further, as this article will contain spoilers!

In both versions of the film, the story follows a naive American dancer, Susie Bannion, as she joins a prestigious dance school/company (depending on what version you are watching), where there are mysterious forces at work- namely, a coven of covert witches working under the watchful eye of matriarch Helena Markos. This general plot framework, along with a memorable soundtrack, is just about where the shared aspects of the two films stop. While both offer a lush, visceral experience to cause absolute dread, the original accomplishes this through a string of gloriously gory kills, frantic music and garish lighting that transforms the dance academy into a nightmarish rave. Guadagnino’s update, however, is the definition of slow burn.

Dakota Johnson as the innocent, Mennonite runaway, Susie Bannion, that we meet at the beginning of the film, complete with a harmless braid. (Photo: Amazon Studios)

Our hero, Susie (Dakota Johnson), arrives at the dance company as a repressed Mennonite runaway, a virginal beauty with a wicked talent for dance- the perfect formula to fit the archetype of the pure and innocent final girl. While I fully expected our childish Susie, who arrived at the company with a long, wholesome, ginger braid, to be subjected to the horrors that lie within the company, then work to dismantle it with her goodness and charm, this movie delightfully subverts the tropes in exchange for something much more impactful.

As we wind throughout Guadagnino’s generous 2.5 hours of film, we witness a radical transformation in Susie’s identity, as she leaves behind her life as a sweet farm girl and blooms into a fiercely free and indescribably powerful woman. In one scene, she dances maniacally, each move of her body gruesomely crumpling a woman to death in another room of the company. Later, to her director, Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton), she quietly describes the experience of dancing as “what it feels like to f**k”- but not a man, something more primal and animal.

In the end, it seems like she dutifully accepts her submissive role in the coven as the vessel for the ancient, omnipresent and ailing Mother Markos, who claims to be one of the original three mothers, a trio of powerful witches that represent pain, darkness and sadness. But in a subversive twist in the dizzying, and surreal final act, Susie herself claims the ultimate power, revealing herself to be one of the true mothers, while simultaneously killing any member of the coven that stood with Markos. And when I say surreal, I mean insane- like heads exploding while Dakota Johnson rips her own chest open insane- all to the haunting vocals of Thom Yorke. To put it simply, this film sticks with you, crawls under your skin and insists on staying the night.

A new, more powerful and free Susie dances the lead in the company’s show, Volk, which doubles as an occult ritual. (Photo: Amazon Studios)

When I returned from my 10:20pm viewing of the film, I crawled into bed and thought endlessly about it- the intoxicating dance scenes, the overwhelming themes of guilt and shame and motherhood, the impeccable costuming and rich setting. It all culminated into a work that tasks us with considering what it all means together. The film ends with a surprisingly tender scene in which the newly-revealed Mother Suspiriorum in the form of Susie visits an ailing, old psychiatrist plagued by the guilt of losing his wife to the holocaust- that the coven had been tormenting throughout the film- to rid him of all of the memories of any woman that had caused him pain, including his missing wife. I couldn’t help but think this scene showed the magical quality of female power- a power that can be vicious but is ultimately, at its core, maternal and empathetic.

Although the film is long and slow at times, and although I struggled to grasp the meaning of it in the end, it is a story so entirely female that even the one important male character (the old psychiatrist) is played by Tilda Swinton in a crazy amount of prosthetics. And in a media landscape entirely tailored to men and the male perspective, it was refreshing, to say the least.