Sabrina Carpenter’s new album, “Man’s Best Friend”, really has the internet talking, and it hasn’t even come out yet. But what’s garnered controversy is not the music itself, it’s the cover art. In it, Carpenter’s on her hands and knees while a suited figure just off camera holds her by a fistful of her hair. The image is definitely polarizing: while some claim it’s satiristic, cleverly making fun of sexist tropes, others suggest the image fails at disrupting much of anything and instead caters to demeaning stereotypes of women. It’s incredibly interesting to watch discussions like these play out, as we observe what exactly “feminist” means to different women. The movement isn’t monolithic, and that’s incredibly clear from Carpenter’s controversy. After some thought, I think I’m ready to add my voice to the conversation. Let’s talk about it.
Many argue that Carpenter has employed this trope of women’s subservience as a way of calling it into question. By purposefully invoking this imagery, alongside music that often makes fun of men (like the album’s lead single, “Manchild”), Carpenter is satirizing the power imbalance. Proponents of this view urge others to “let grown women do what they want with their bodies” and suggest that criticism is just another symptom of patriarchy, leading women to police one another.
But I think this argument just falls flat, for a few reasons. First, I don’t think the image is effectively satirical. Satire, with the goal of critique or effecting societal change, needs to be clear. However, Carpenter’s album cover is completely indistinguishable from the trope it’s supposedly critiquing. The first thing that came to mind when I saw the image was not an understanding of irony or a message of empowerment, but instead, horribly sexist ads from the 1950s and 1960s. Satire isn’t effective if it isn’t clearly exaggerated and ironic — and that’s not just a case of some being purposefully anti-intellectual and refusing to see Carpenter’s message. If the target audience doesn’t realize that they’re looking at satire, it could easily reinforce the very message it’s claiming to subvert and will necessarily fail to provoke any discomfort or serious reflection. One user on TikTok, Jamila Bradley, said “If Sabrina Carpenter’s album cover was effective satire, it would make men feel uncomfortable and women feel seen”. But this image is so close to the trope it “critiques” that you can’t tell the difference. She literally occupies a subservient and submissive position to the man that’s pulling her by her hair, while her facial expression is amorous and alluring. The image doesn’t try to make us uncomfortable; in fact, she looks perfectly content.
And while it’s true that Carpenter’s music is often cleverly written to critique men, making them the butt of her jokes, a phrase I continue to see dominating comment sections is: “Her music lacks the radicalism necessary to subvert the imagery she employs.” It’s not a bad thing that Carpenter makes fun, fluffy pop music, but to be a truly effective critique, using an image like this requires more than just referring to men as “stupid” or “clueless”. That’s because the power structures that it references are significant, deep-rooted, and ever-present. Women as subservient and submissive, especially in romantic relationships, is a trope that is limiting, degrading, and oftentimes dangerous. And the accompanying title, which compares women to dogs, only reinforces the idea that they are subordinate and accessories to men. This is why I also am troubled by the suggestion that Carpenter is being purposefully controversial in order to make money: the abusive behaviour and harmful dynamics that she is glamourizing here can be deadly, especially for Indigenous women and women of colour, and should not be normalized or justified with the argument that she’s just “getting her bag”. An immense amount of privilege is baked into that statement.
I’ve also seen many defending Carpenter by saying that she’s an adult woman who should be allowed to do as she pleases with her art, her image, and her body. That’s completely true. But that doesn’t absolve her from any criticism, especially as a public figure. Carpenter’s allowed to choose to make her album cover whatever she wants, but others are allowed to dislike it and share their opinions.
But I want to talk more about that word, “choose”, because I’ve seen choice feminism discussed a lot recently, even outside of this moment. Choice feminists believe that the act of choosing, as a woman, is inherently feminist. Actions that we take, because they are the product of our agency, are necessarily and intrinsically feminist. In this view, Carpenter’s image and the position she occupies within it, regardless of the intention or the way it has been received, are inherently feminist because she decided to make it. But I think choice feminism is flawed, because it ignores the fact that we’re all products of a larger society. Our decisions do not exist within a vacuum, but are instead always a part of, the product of, and the cause of something bigger. Choice feminism would say, for example, that choosing to get Botox to get rid of your wrinkles is an inherently feminist choice because it is a choice. And while I wouldn’t say that Botox is necessarily anti-feminist, this position ignores the strict, unforgiving beauty standards placed on women, especially as they age. No one comes out of the womb with a fear of wrinkles and a desire to fill their face with Botox. Again, that doesn’t mean getting it is anti-feminist, but it does mean that it is the product of larger societal biases and power imbalances. Carpenter’s decision to create this album cover was hers, but that doesn’t mean that it is inherently feminist.
Everyone made fun of Kamala Harris when she said, “Do you think you just fell out of a coconut tree?”, but she definitely had a point. Carpenter’s album cover doesn’t exist independently from the society that produced it. We exist in a social context that is much, much more than any individual that comprises it (sui generis, to flex my sociology muscles). Patriarchy doesn’t just disappear when men leave the room — women’s subjugation, especially that of women of colour, is baked into the foundation of our society and is an ever-present factor in the ways that we interact with one another and the world. We didn’t just fall out of a coconut tree, as Harris said, “[we] exist in the context of all in which [we] live and what came before [us]”. To ignore this when discussing this image and the impact it may have is a failure to truly explore the power dynamics that are at play just below the surface. Carpenter’s choice was in fact a choice, but it exists within the context of women’s continued suppression and is, for many, nothing but a replication of the structures that continue to oppress us. It is additionally a privilege to be able to choose to step into this position for a photoshoot, when violence against women continues to be a reality in the lives of many.
As for the claim that Carpenter’s actions “set us back”, I don’t think she’s capable, as an individual, to have nearly that kind of impact (no offence). And while I’m not in any way saying we need to stop bumping “Espresso”, I do hope that we can all continue to look a little deeper. Because you didn’t just fall out of a coconut tree.