In Sex and the City (SATC), Carrie Bradshaw narrates each episode with a question that often begins with "I have to wonder, if..." and after taboos have been exposed and hearts have been broken and mended by the bonds of friendship, she ends with "Or something". I still love watching Samantha, Miranda, Charlotte and Carrie navigate New York City's dating jungle with ferocity, skillful negotiation, a sense of propriety, and humor (usually in a mid-drift bearing top). I would not have known the first thing about treating marriage with sarcasm were it not for Sex and the City.
Watching the episodes now, as a single, 37-year old woman living and dating in Portland, I get to thinking that I may be a product of the sister-doing-it-for-herself that was the Zeitgeist of the 90s. I chose to exercise my options in my 20s. I did not necessarily choose to stay unmarried until almost 40 years old. One thing is certain, my expectation that I will marry decreases, while my expectations for my future rise with each passing year. I suppose SATC taught me that you can have a great life as long as you live in a great city and have great friends. That's why I moved in with my one friend in Portland from New York City, where I am incredibly lucky to have four great girlfriends.
I have to marvel at what an incredible tool the HBO series was for the writers who got to vent about their own issues and frustrations with dating and the single life and in turn, were validated by ever-increasing numbers of viewers. The show has been internationally syndicated in countries such as Albania and South Korea. Single gals the world over have raised their cosmos, united under the banner, "All the good ones are gay!"
Sex and the City was a kind of state of single women in modern society report with designer shoes, sexy men, and expensive cocktails. But, what did it really say about them? I wonder, besides being good entertainment, what could Sex and the City have accomplished if it had not been so focused on Vogue, Jimmy Cho, and Prada? Sure, it is great fun to get caught up in the big city fantasy that each of the four archetype characters' stories represented. But what about writing to make a statement and not just to vent?
What about exposing the real issues women in the 1990s struggled with like the Glass Ceiling, increased divorce rates, sky rocketing expectations for academic achievement and economic attainment? What about how Glee has tackled the current issues of bullying, teen sexual identity, and homophobia while also winning awards and entertaining millions?
Don't get me wrong. I benefit from this corner where I get to vent myself. Lately, I have been wondering about the usefulness of language and the potency of messages. In a world that is messaged to the max, is it incumbent upon all those in word craft to say something meaningful, to make a point and still have fun, to make their words count, rather than just spout, or something?
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