Jane Fonda opens the envelope and takes a long breath––a deliberate inhale as she surveys the room. There is a pregnant silence, Fonda is smiling slightly. Though there are thousands of filled seats, at that moment you could hear a pin drop. People are dressed in their finest suits and gowns and will be ranked based on their hair, accessories, and overall style for months. Even so, there could be a riot depending on what Jane Fonda’s about to say next.
“And the Oscar goes to,” here there’s another pause. Everyone, even the people at home are sitting on the edge of their seats. Fonda glances into the audience, then at the camera. She knows this one word will change film history, “Parasite!”
A deafening roar fills the audience of Dolby theater. Director Bong Joon Ho rises from his chair and is enveloped immediately in a massive bear hug. He has to claw his way to the stage as he and the cast are mobbed by supportive fans (other nominees and winners from the evening). The camera doesn’t pan to Todd Philips (Joker)––perhaps because he’s crying or shaking his fist at God for the loss.
Bong Joon Ho and the film have already made history this evening––this will be the movie’s fourth time on the stage. Even nabbing the Foreign Film category (though that one was a given) was a historic win for South Korea. But Best Picture is another story.
Parasite isn’t a typical award winner. It’s a dark comedy turned psychological thriller about how capitalism turns us all into, well, parasites. Think about it: a South Korean film (starring Korean actors) about the pitfalls of capitalism took several major awards from a historically racist, xenophobic, and classist award show. Do you know how good this movie has to be to hurdle themselves over those barriers?
The Oscars are a notorious old boys club. Two Hollywood insiders––Scorcese and Tarantino––were left in the audience, wondering what their status as old, white guys meant anymore. It appears that some films are so good, not even Hollywood favoritism can stop them from dominating the award circuit.
Although I still haven’t changed my mind about the validity of the Oscars, in terms of pop culture, this was a huge deal.
The night was full of celebration and that picture of Bong Joon Ho making his Oscars kiss, but certainly, not everybody will be celebrating.
There are the Hollywood elitists, people who didn’t see the film but they know it doesn’t feature a white, male protagonist. People who will say this was a “diversity pick” (as if we haven’t been rewarding all-white movies for DECADES) and dismiss the film altogether. And then there are the white feminists.
Theoretically, “women” (in Hollywood, this term is used to refer to white women, generally) would simultaneously advocate for the representation of ALL women and celebrate the historic wins of men of color during the evening. Though true, there’s more work to be done in terms of gender AND race equality, this night was historic for filmmakers of color.
Parasite took home four of the six awards they were nominated for, including making history as the first film not in the English language to win Best Picture. Similarly, Taika Waititi (Jojo Rabbit) won Best Adapted Screenplay––making him the first Maori person to ever take home an Oscar.
Though two monumental accomplishments, they didn’t exactly fit the white feminist narrative.
We felt the tension before the event even began. In the months dubbed “award season”, critics and fans focused their attention on Greta Gerwig and her film Little Women. Though it is certainly egregious that Gerwig wasn’t up for best director this year, making that the sole narrative of award season (in a time when men of color were in an uphill battle for major category victories) feels irresponsible.
Greta Gerwig is a white woman. This fact is obvious but widely pushed under the rug in the conversation about representation. We can have this dialogue about gender, but we cannot divorce it from the discussion about race. The fact of the matter is, Gerwig has plenty of privilege in Hollywood (though, of course, nobody has more privilege than the white man). While her films might not be taking home the highest awards, at least they are being greenlighted.
Yes, told from a woman’s point of view, Gerwig’s stories are still white stories. White members of Hollywood feel a sense of security––if they’re going to have to listen to a woman, it might as well be a white woman. While this isn’t to say that Gerwig wasn’t deserving (in all truth, I love her films and see myself in several of them), we should begin to question why we feel the need to make a white woman central to the discussion about underrepresentation.
The LA Times even reported that the combination of Parasite and Taika Waititi meant that no woman has won an Oscar for their writing in twelve years. IndieWire put out this article about Taika Waititi taking the Oscar for Adapted Screenplay over Greta Gerwig. These headlines suggest that these men of color won at the expense of (white) female filmmakers. While of course, it’s important to start a discourse surrounding gender, it’s too common to see this narrative of white women versus men of color in the entertainment industry.
Why choose to point out nominations that were fought for tooth and nail? It’s not like either man has huge amounts of privilege in the industry. While yes, both have made other films before, so has Greta Gerwig. Though unfortunate that Hollywood failed to recognize her artistic genius (mostly by failing to nominate her for best director), it wasn’t the fault of Waititi or Ho that she didn’t snag the nomination.
It seems further unjust that we would lump creative and bold films like Jojo Rabbit and Parasite with lukewarm, rage-filled, incel porn-like Joker (which snagged 11 nominations this year).
Perhaps even more troubling is that there was room for intersectionality in this year’s discussion on race and gender. Though Parasite snagged several major awards, the Oscars failed to acknowledge the merit of the actors. Despite a phenomenal performance by Park So-Dam (who plays Ki-Jung), she was not recognized even with a nomination. White feminists gunning for Gerwig were awfully quiet when it came to the Korean actress.
Over the four major categories for actors, one black woman was nominated––Cynthia Erivo from Harriet. In 2020––dubbed the year of “inclusion”––five black people were nominated. Total.
Somehow this lack of representation doesn’t pique the interest of “feminists” either.
None of this is to chastise Greta Gerwig or put the blame solely on the shoulders of (white) women. Of course, there are bigger fish to fry. But it is to ask white people to consider their privilege, regardless of gender. In a racialized world, it’s not acceptable to claim colorblindness, especially when advocating for the rights of “women.” If we as white women focus solely on the issue of gender, we are inherently leaving out the struggles of women of color. Our society is bound to white supremacy, and if we don’t actively push against it, we will succumb to its default.
In a historic year for two filmmakers of color, it is not the job of white women to scrutinize or belittle these wins. The success of men of color is not a loss for white women. In fact, in a system that rewards the patriarchy and white supremacy, dismantling one system should be a step toward justice for all marginalized communities.