The ruthless, futile politics of ‘bitchiness’

The ruthless, futile politics of ‘bitchiness’

"Heather! Why are you such … a megabitch?"

Shannen Doherty, in the role of Heather No. 3, rolls her huge
blue eyes, purses her pouty red lips and focuses her
"what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you" stare toward Winona Ryder, her
dumbfounded interlocutor. With a semi-twitch of the head, Doherty
replies as if the answer were scratched in blood across the pale
flesh of Ryder’s forehead and Ryder is just too clueless to notice
it: "Because I can be."

Doherty’s real-life persona, in the cowed eyes of the American
Hollywood viewing public, is virtually inseparable from the
characters she plays. She’s appealing because she’s a bad little
girl. "Bad Little Girl" … the seeming contradiction in terms is
fascinating. In other words, girls aren’t supposed to be bad.

Two of Doherty’s most memorable roles ­ Heather No. 3 in
the movie Heathers and Brenda Walsh in the TV series "Beverly
Hills, 90210" ­ both follow the "good girl turned bad"
pattern. At the start of the film, Doherty’s Heather initially
clutches a battered copy of "Moby Dick." By the film’s closure
she’s living it up with the rest of the high school elite ­
initiating nasty pranks, wearing the signature color, throwing mean
looks and attitude, and playing a vicious dog-eat-dog game of
croquet. Having abandoned her sensitive nice-girl ways, Heather
informs Veronica (Ryder), a potential bitch-in-the-making, "Haven’t
you heard? Nice guys finish last."

Minnesota-born Brenda Walsh’s pilot-show, apple-pie niceness
also eventually succumbs to the overwhelming forces of her popular
Barbie doll friends. "Sugar and spice and everything nice" gives
way to sex (on prom night), drugs (bums a smoke off a sleazy
tabloid reporter) and rock ‘n’ roll. Life and art merged and
"Shannon/Brenda" rocked the placid world of West Beverly High. Move
over Donna, move over Kelly … Brenda’s in town.

Do we love her? Do we hate her? Do we love to hate her? With her
dark brown hair and creamy complexion, she looks like the Virgin
Mary ­ sans the flowing blue robe ­ yet portrays young
women who are anything but gentle or virginal, young women who coin
such charming phrases as, "Well, fuck me gently with a
chainsaw!"

Heather’s a megabitch not only because she can be, but more
importantly, because she believes she needs to be. It’s no
coincidence that since it’s supposedly a "dog-eat-dog" world,
aggressive women are often called "bitches" (i.e. "female dogs").
The quality of bitchiness, as I see it, is all tied up with a sense
of rebellion, of doing things you’re not supposed to do, of
"getting the better" of someone through Machiavellian contrivings,
of living out his philosophy of "the ends justify the means" and
ultimately feeling no remorse.

Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary defines the term "bitch" as
"a lewd or immoral woman, a malicious, spiteful and domineering
woman." I remember hurling this very dictionary, which contains no
term that is equivalent for a man ("jerk" is simply "a foolish or
eccentric person," "asshole" isn’t even listed) at one particularly
exasperating ex-boyfriend. He ducked. The flying book missed. But
an airborne lamp clipped him in the arm.

"Bitch," he seethed, clutching the wounded limb.

Although I was mortified by my irrational and uncalled-for
actions and sacrificed several good-behavior brownie points, I was
pleased by the fact that, in the grand old imaginary relationship
record book in the sky, I had scored a point for domination, even
if it was only of the 15-minute variety. For the moment, our
argument terminated and he peered at me sulkily with the
half-respectful, half-infuriated look of a wounded animal. The same
bitchiness that garnered me the attention I wasn’t getting but felt
I deserved apparently works for many women in the workplace.

A recent issue of Cosmopolitan magazine sports a particularly
juicy article: "Claws & Effect ­ What would you do to get
ahead?" The article’s author designates two types of women: "Those
who get ahead on talent and hard work and those who think talent
and hard work are only the beginning." A woman of the second type
"always gets what she wants" by any way possible, even if it means
trading "oral sex for a corner office." The male author suggests we
take a hint from this expert woman, who not only gives but takes
… from "friends, rivals, even her sister."

It’s clear to me how a woman might feel that being a "bitch" is
the only way she can "get anywhere" in society. It’s even more
clear how, despite all attempts at "moral" fortitude, one might be
so overwhelmed by the way society works to finally just play the
game the way it’s always been played. In other words, it is easier
to work around the system instead of against it, to leave the
pre-existing rules intact, to get down on your hands and knees,
unzip the appropriate zipper and give oral sex.

Yes, when viewed as a whole, the system of dog-eat-doggedness is
overwhelming. But "systems" and "society" are, in reality, not just
abstract concepts. Every system and every society is made up of
individuals. Screaming that "society" is at fault is a convenient
way of passing the buck.

I, for one, am an impatient creature. It’s frustrating to treat
people like people when they treat you like dirt. I wouldn’t
recommend taking their shit any more than I would recommend slicing
off your genitals. But for crying out loud, too much pain already
exists in the world without us adding more to it by being
"megabitches" just because we "can be" and because we think our
"society" demands it.

Looking at the situation from a purely economic perspective, the
woman ­ no, make that the person ­ who steps on others on
her way up the societal ladder of success is bound to have a bumpy
and painful ride down the chutes of failure when the tide
inevitably turns. Success cannot last, given that the system does
indeed operate on dog-eat-dog principles. More cunning, resourceful
and cutthroat "bitchy" players always come to the forefront to
dislodge the old so-called winners. It’s true that the fall doesn’t
seem all that hard when you’ve got a pile of dollars on which to
land.

But how rewarding would it be to have all that wealth and no one
with which to share it? The true bitch, who is "ruthless, damn the
consequences" may be appealing in the short term, but pitiful in
the long term. When my day of reckoning finally arrives, I’d rather
have a sincere hand to hold than any amount of hundred dollar
bills.

Alimurung is a fourth-year student double-majoring in English
and psychology. Her column appears on alternate Mondays.