What to say about Aziz Ansari?

There are so many things wrong with the Babe piece about Aziz Ansari and I’m so busy that I really resisted responding. But here goes…

What to say about Aziz Ansari?

First of all, not much.

The Babe piece (and I’ll get to that name in a minute) was flawed in so many ways that, if it had anything else as its ostensible subject, the charitable thing would have been to pretend we hadn’t seen it. (As far as I’m concerned this is still the best course of action, but not a viable option, unfortunately.)

Perhaps, over time, it’s author and anyone else at Babe who are on the, um, ‘senior editorial staff’ will become better writers and editors, of better pieces, at better journalistic organs. In fact, I’m sure some of them will. But right now, what we’ve had to bear witness to is the train wreck of an unwitting subject poorly served by a bad writer. To make matters worse, it all happened under the oversight of an editorial staff without the skill or experience to stop this from happening.

There was a legitimate story to tell about these two people’s sad evening together, but the journalistic and/or social critique bona fides of Babe were simply not up to the task. And the resulting response elsewhere is consequently as confused and messy as that article.

The name of the website itself says a lot. Babe is obviously echoing Jezebel, or trying to. I can imagine the creators thinking that the name was staking claim to a subversive and empowering, ironic and self-knowing sort of feminism. Playing, with a wink, to the younger crowd for whom Jezebel is already a bit old and grizzled in its seriousness.

But who Jezebel was isn’t what a babe is. One’s a woman with agency, anger, and personality. The other’s a category, not even an actual person, named and called (cat called, even) by someone else. By a man.

So my initial response to this whole thing is to dismiss it. Not because we shouldn’t have a conversation about how gendered power dynamics have made men bad lovers and made women settle for unsatisfying sex lives. Not because we shouldn’t have a conversation about why we’re surprised that the obliviousness that men’s entitlement affords them in every other aspect of their lives carries over into sexual interplay. And  not because I’m a huge fan of Ansari or because I want to blame “Grace” for not being the right brand of feminist.

I want to dismiss it because it isn’t what #MeToo is about. That’s the fundamental flaw in the article and in the reaction to it. By responding in ways that accept the premise that this article is part of that conversation we’re already being suckers. I can say, “No, sorry. This is about something else. You may want to exploit this moment and push your way in by name dropping and sloppy writing. But no.”

We’re allowed to show discernment and discretion about where we turn our attention. To be a cause worth fighting for does not require us to all be unified in a single vision. There can be debates about all sorts of things. But we shouldn’t feel pressured to engage in debates over things that aren’t worthy.

To be a legitimate movement does not require perfection, either in our behavior or our insight. This is the classic trap and the only way we won’t fall into it is to not. give. any. fucks.

To be empowering, supportive, pissed-off, uncompromising, nurturing, strategic women in this moment does not require us all to be lobotomized. The article was stupid. And facile. And not worth my attention.

And Oh, yeah. Aziz Ansari along with many other men need to be told that they are seriously bad at sex. Some other day, when I feel so moved, I’ll write that piece. But not today. I’m busy.