Gossip Girl, the Male Gaze, and the Real World

When I was in fourth grade, a girl in my Hebrew School class announced to all in the room that she didn’t want her Blackberry anymore and wanted an iPhone instead, so she had dropped her Blackberry in the toilet. She proceeded to pull out an iPhone, saying “look at my new phone!” This was one of the many reasons why I disliked going to Hebrew School. However, experiences like these did make it so that, four years later, when I stumbled upon all six seasons of  Gossip Girl conveniently ready for my watching on Netflix, I already had an insight into that world. My peers and I immediately became enthralled with the series. We wanted to be Blair Waldorf, we wanted to be anyone but Serena van der Woodsen, and we wanted, more than anything, for Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass to be together in the end. For me, the appeal was the sense of familiarity it provided me. As I watched the show, I recognized the streets the characters walked on as ones around the corner from my old building or down the block from my temple. The appeal also lay in the glimpse it gave me into this other part of life in New York City — one to which I was close enough to know it existed (my Hebrew School experiences made sure of that), but also far enough away that I did not know exactly what it consisted of.

Recently, I rewatched an episode of this show; I had some free time and I wanted to see if I could remember why I had loved it so much. While watching, I slowly came to the disappointing realization that this show was not even close to what I had built it up to be. I still loved it, but the experience I had watching it was different than the one that “middle school me” had while watching it. I could not quite put my finger on it, but the editing seemed a little off, and the derogatory jokes that had flown over my head as a middle schooler now had a bit more of a punch-in-the-gut quality to them. Nevertheless, by the end of the episode, I was again enthralled.

The problem that I could not quite put my finger on a few months ago, has now become quite clear: the show is entirely based on the concept of the male gaze, and this male gaze is perpetuated throughout the entirety of each episode in a way that is sickening once it is spotted. However, since the theory behind the male gaze is partly that it remains under the radar, actually spotting it in the first place is difficult. Thus, too many people — many of them teenagers — have become obsessed with this show without realizing its more serious implications.

Gossip Girl has extended the male gaze perhaps as far as it can go (or at least I hope that no one tries to push it any farther). The camera takes on the male’s perspective, as is typical in most popular culture, but the male perspective is also emphasized throughout the show by each of the male characters. Even the plot line, although narrated in a female’s voice, is actually narrated from the male’s point of view (in the end we find out that Dan is the one who has been running the gossip girl blog). The male’s gaze is pervasive; today, especially, the reality of the male gaze in popular culture is an even more important phenomenon than many realize, as an increasing number of victims of sexual assaults perpetrated within the Hollywood apparatus come to the surface. To focus on the male gaze in film without analyzing the potential of a connection between it and all that is currently coming to the surface would be a disservice.

I never thought about the influence of editing on a show before. It is always satisfying to point out when details of shows do not remain consistent throughout — Gossip Girl’s editors seemed to struggle a lot with this type of editing. But, Gossip Girl’s editors did not seem to struggle with using editing to successfully portray the male gaze. In the first episode (“Pilot”), there are countless instances of the camera forcing viewers to adapt a male point of view without realizing they are doing so. Within the first two minutes of the episode, the camera pans up and down an unknowing Serena as Dan looks at her from a distance. The editors are setting up the show to be portrayed from a male point of view even before viewers have become acquainted with any of the characters. In the twenty-first minute of the first episode, the camera makes a slow progression up Blair’s body and then pans over to Nate as he walks through the door. Through this cinematography,  as well as through dialogue about how Nate has a right to Blair’s body (Chuck says to Nate, “you’re also entitled to tap that ass”) the scene implies that Blair’s body belongs to Nate; it is there as something for Nate’s eyes to consume, and for him to have at his choosing. These are certainly not the only instances of the male gaze in Gossip Girl, but listing them all would be excessive since the male gaze occurs in countless similar circumstances throughout the series.

Gossip Girl pushes beyond just the camera and editing in its portrayal of the male gaze; it created a character that embodies the gaze. Dan Humphrey is one of the main male characters of the show. He is the “poor” boy from Brooklyn, an outcast who has his big break into inner society when he begins dating Serena — a beautiful, rich, popular girl.  The show is premised on an anonymous gossip blogger who receives tips and posts about the inner workings of New York City’s elite teenage society. This itself should set off alarm bells ringing as an indication of the expansion of the male gaze; this blogger is looking into others’ private lives without any permission to do so. To make matters worse, in the last episode the series reveals that it was Dan all along who was the anonymous blogger. This means that the entirety of the show is seen through, first the eyes of the tip-givers, but ultimately through Dan’s eyes. All (the tip-senders, blog-readers, and Dan himself) are watching others’ private interactions, and inserting themselves into the private lives of people whom they have no right to observe. Dan is ultimately the one who has the final say in how others’ private lives are presented to the world and the ways in which the blog’s readers will peer into the private lives of the show’s characters. In the context that “the knowledge that is gained from gazing at others’ lives may provide [the gazer] with a sense of power and control in our own lives,” Dan as the embodiment of the male gaze makes sense. Dan lacks power and control over his own life because he is the outcast. The way for him to reclaim some agency lies in the blog, subjecting the private lives of his peers and those around him to his own portrayal of them. The blog also provides an escape from his own problems into the more luxurious world of the elite who surround him, but with whom he feels he will never be equal. The male gaze has extended from just the camera allowing viewers to peer into the character’s lives. It now vindicates the concept of the male gaze and its use by viewers through the sanctioning of its extensive use by Dan, one of the show’s beloved characters — the “good guy”.

The male gaze is a type of voyeurism. The use of this word is often dreaded because it rarely says anything good about that to which it refers. Gossip Girl is full of voyeurism, which means that the audience (comprised mostly of teenage girls) accepts its use, and the actors embrace its use in a way that can only be expected to transfer into real life for impressionistic viewers. Voyeurism in popular culture is usually first associated with reality television, but Gossip Girl has made it clear that it is not limited to reality television. Voyeurism in shows like Gossip Girl is dangerous, because not only is the audience participating in its perpetuation, but so are the characters that they learn to admire. In this way, the use of voyeurism in real life is validated, and without even realizing it, all who watch are recognizing voyeurism as an admirable act. Mainly, this means that the teenage girls girls watching the show accept the objectification of women like themselves. The first episode provides yet another perfect example when it shows Nate and Serena’s sex scene in the bar through a lens that is blurred around the edges. In this moment, all viewers become voyeurs, finding enjoyment in watching a private moment that is not their own. This theory is often applied to books by saying, “unless a book directly addresses ‘you,’ then theoretically you have no place to be looking at and reading the pages.” Television shows are the same, and since they seldom directly address viewers, one generally has no right to be watching. In the same scene as above, the camera pans to Chuck watching Nate and Serena having sex from a balcony above. This is weird and should make most viewers feel uncomfortable, but instead it is presented as an intriguing plot twist that will later cause interesting drama. In viewers’ minds it is nothing more than that, and this is a problem.

This problem has presented itself recently in the form of the stream of sexual assault allegations being made public. Almost every day, my phone dings to alert me that another public figure has been accused of sexual misconduct. This should not surprise me or anyone else; the male gaze and voyeurism are phenomena that have overtaken popular culture and Hollywood. If it is acceptable on screen, it is not that far to assume that it is also acceptable in real life. Thus, actors like Ed Westwick, who portrayed characters that were beloved despite their illustrating the omnipotence of the male gaze, might find that it is not so difficult to think that they could get away with similarly grotesque actions in real life. Chuck Bass was an awful character who objectified women both through his actions and his words, and in the first episode tried to sexually assault two leading female characters. Yet he goes on to become one the shows best characters. I can vouch for that — I was rooting for him all along, no matter the bad things that he did. Actors must learn to embody their characters as if they were actually them; it is not too far of a jump for them to begin to adopt some of their actions in real life, believing that they can get away with them. This could be a reason why Hollywood is at the center of the sexual assault epidemic.

This idea that everyone learns to inhabit the male point of view is not an idea that most would like accept about themselves. In an attempt not to, many have come up with ways to claim that the male gaze does not exist or that the male gaze is not a negative phenomenon. For example, some women claim that the male gaze makes them feel empowered. Others claim that the female gaze also exists, and this existence validates the existence of the male gaze. First, there is a difference between appreciating respectful attention from men and just being looked at as an object there for anyone’s pleasing. It is sad to imagine that women feel empowered by anyone inhabiting the male gaze and looking at them through that lens. This points at a deeper problem of internalized sexism in society, and does not invalidate the existence of the male gaze. In terms of there also being a female gaze, there is not much proof that points to that fact. In using Gossip Girl as an example, there were countless examples of the male gaze, but no examples of the female gaze. Even if there is a female gaze, that does not make the male gaze something that should be accepted when presented as a sole viewpoint — two wrongs do not make a right.

Gossip Girl is much more than the superficial portrayal of New York City’s elite society that I originally thought it was. The realization that this show perpetuates such a harmful convention is upsetting because I really enjoy watching this show. At the same time, this does not mean I will stop watching or enjoying the show, which is exactly the problem with popular culture and the male gaze: Despite its presence and influence, we want to keep watching.

Written in the style of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Edited by Sarah Tully.

Sources:

Bartlett, Jennifer. “Longing for the Male Gaze.” The New York Times. September 21, 2016.
Accessed December 08, 2017.
https://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/21/opinion/longing-for-the-male-gaze.html?_r=0.

Calvert, Clay. Voyeur nation: Media, Privacy, and Peering in Modern Culture. Boulder:
Westview Press, 2004. 69.

Garcia, Antero. Critical Foundations in Young Adult Literature Challenging Genres. Rotterdam: Sense Publishers, 2013. 104.

“Male gaze.” Oxford Reference. April 19, 2016. Accessed December 08, 2017.
http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199568758.001.0001/acref-97
80199568758-e-1594.

Metzl, Jonathan. “From Scopophilia to Survivor: A Brief History of Voyeurism.” Textual Practice 18, no. 3 (2004): 415-34. doi:10.1080/09502360410001732935.