Empowerment/Sexism: Figuring Female Sexual Agency in Contemporary Advertising

ARTICLES
Rosalind GILL
Empowerment/Sexism: Figuring Female Sexual Agency

in Contemporary Advertising
This article argues that there has been a significant shift in advertising representations of
women in recent years, such that rather than being presented as passive objects of the
male gaze, young women in adverts are now frequently depicted as active, independent
and sexually powerful. This analysis examines contemporary constructions of female
sexual agency in advertisements examining three recognizable ‘figures’: the young,
heterosexually desiring ‘midriff’, the vengeful woman set on punishing her partner or ex-
partner for his transgressions, and the ‘hot lesbian’, almost always entwined with her
beautiful Other or double. Using recent examples of adverts, the article asks how this
apparent ‘agency’ and ‘empowerment’ should be understood.
Drawing on accounts of the incorporation or recuperation of feminist ideas in adver-
tising, the article takes a critical approach to these representations, examining their
exclusions, their constructions of gender relations and heteronormativity, and the way
power is figured within them. A feminist poststructuralist approach is used to interrogate
the way in which ‘sexual agency’ becomes a form of regulation in these adverts that
requires the re-moulding of feminine subjectivity to fit the current postfeminist, neoliberal
moment in which young women should not only be beautiful but sexy, sexually know-
ledgeable/practised and always ‘up for it’.
The article makes an original contribution to debates about representations of gender
in advertising, to poststructuralist analyses about the contemporary operation of power,
and to writing about female ‘sexual agency’ by suggesting that ‘voice’ or ‘agency’ may
not be the solution to the ‘missing discourse of female desire’ but may in fact be a tech-
nology of discipline and regulation.
Key Words: feminism, postfeminism, power, subjectivity
Feminism & Psychology © 2008 SAGE (Los Angeles, London, New Delhi and Singapore)
http://fap.sagepub.com, Vol. 18(1): 35–60; 0959-3535
DOI: 10.1177/0959353507084950
Downloaded from fap.sagepub.com at GEORGIAN COURT UNIV on February 25, 2015

36 Feminism & Psychology 18(1)
INTRODUCTION: ‘TODAY’S WOMAN LIVES IN AN ALMOST CONSTANT

STATE OF EMPOWERMENT . . .’
‘Women Now Empowered by Everything a Woman Does’ declares a recent

headline in the satirical magazine The Onion (2003).1 The article explains how
back in the 1970s and 1980s women’s liberation struggles were focused
‘narrowly’ on securing reproductive rights, sexual freedoms and equality in the
workplace. Today, the article asserts, empowerment is understood much more
broadly. Acts as trivial as purchasing a pair of shoes or eating a particular brand
of cereal bar are now recognized as gestures of female empowerment just as
surely as participating in a demonstration or pushing for a stronger voice in
politics. Indeed, this moment is one of ‘true’ empowerment because it includes
all women: ‘Not every woman can become a physicist or lobby to stop a foundry
from dumping dangerous metals into the creek her children swim in’, the article’s
spoof feminist academic Barbara Klein is quoted as saying.
Although these actions are incredible, they marginalize the majority of women
who are unable to, or just don’t particularly care to, achieve such things.
Fortunately for the less impressive among us, a new strain of feminism has
emerged in which mundane activities are championed as proud, bold assertions
of independence from oppressive patriarchal hegemony.
These actions include ‘lunching with female friends’, driving your child to soc-
cer practice, and, above all, buying a range of ‘empowering’ products such as
antacid tablets with added calcium and cleaning implements ‘equipped with con-
venient, throwaway towelettes’.
This hilarious article has two main satirical targets. The first and most obvious
is the growing trend within contemporary advertising to promote products
targeted at women using a discourse of empowerment, or what Michelle Lazar
(Lazar, 2006: 21) has called ‘power femininity’. This has become almost ubiqui-
tous in affluent developed societies understood as being in a ‘postfeminist’
moment, in which women are invited to purchase everything from bras to coffee
as signs of their power and independence (from men). The second, and perhaps
more muted, target is the confusion or discomfort among feminist academics
about how to interpret this shift. In the figure of the spoof feminist academic,
feminists’ failure to respond adequately to this faux empowerment is mocked:
‘From what she eats for breakfast to the way she cleans her home, today’s
woman lives in a state of near-constant empowerment’, said Barbara Klein,
professor of women’s studies at Oberlin College and director of the study . . .
‘Shopping for shoes has emerged as a powerful means by which women assert
their autonomy’, Klein said. ‘Owning and wearing dozens of pairs of shoes is a
compelling way for a woman to announce that she is strong and independent,
and can shoe herself without the help of a man. She’s saying, “Look out, male
dominated world, here comes me and my shoes”.’

GILL: Empowerment/Sexism 37
The butt of the joke here is surely the successful TV series Sex and the City, with
its endless focus on Monolo Blahniks and Jimmy Choos, and also – crucially –
the hugely celebratory feminist responses to it, which have seen in it evidence of
a new kind of female empowerment (see, for example, Akass and McCabe,
2004). As Stevi Jackson and Sue Scott (2004) have pointed out, we are told
nowadays that high-heeled shoes are emblematic of a confident, powerful femi-
ninity, a femininity that is ‘out and proud’ – indeed, a daring rejection of what is
frequently presented as ‘feminist orthodoxy’ in relation to beauty. Stiletto heels,
long imbued with sexual meanings, have acquired a particular symbolic potency
in this postfeminist moment. The fact that they are difficult to walk in, even
painful, adds to this by drawing attention to the valuing of sexual attractiveness
over and above freedom of movement.
Both these themes – advertising discourses of empowerment and feminist
responses to them – are the topic of this article. My aim here is to focus on a
specific form of ‘empowerment’ – sexual agency – and to examine its construc-
tion in contemporary advertising, through careful consideration of three distinc-
tive advertising constructions: the figure of the active, (hetero)sexually desiring
‘midriff’, the sadistic or vengeful woman acting out a revenge fantasy against her
(ex-)partner and the ‘hot lesbian’ – almost always entwined with her mirror
image. I ask how we should read these figures, all of whom are constructed as
powerful and agentic women. Are they feminist icons of empowerment, or is
something more complicated going on? In order to address this, I will start by
offering briefly a theoretical context located in three bodies of literature: discus-
sions of the ‘missing discourse of female desire’, debates about the response of
advertising to feminist critique and poststructuralist feminist analyses of disci-
pline and regulation. I will then introduce the figurative approach I take before
moving on to look in detail at the construction of the ‘midriff’, the ‘powerful/
vengeful woman’, and the ‘hot lesbian’ in contemporary advertising campaigns.
ADVERTISING, POWER AND FEMALE SEXUAL AGENCY
In the last 20 years, a significant research agenda has developed concerned with
the exploration of female sexual agency. A groundbreaking article by Michelle
Fine (1988) highlighted what she called the ‘missing discourse of female desire’
in adolescents’ accounts of sexual activity. She drew attention to the multiple
ways in which sociocultural forces operate to undermine, erase or de-legitimize
girls’ experiences and articulations of sexual agency. Considerable subsequent
research has borne out this analysis, with studies spotlighting the minor signifi-
cance accorded to sexual desire in girls’ and young women’s accounts of why
they engage in sexual activity – with pressure from men or friends highlighted
much more frequently; and examining heterosexual femininity as a project
concerned with making oneself desirable rather than with feeling and expressing
sexual desires (Tolman, 2002). Janet Holland and her colleagues (1998) used their

extensive interview data to argue that heterosexuality is constructed from within

masculinity and that young women have ‘a male in the head’ that prevents them
from fully experiencing and enjoying their sexual experiences on their own terms.
In recent years, some research has challenged this idea for offering an overly
monolithic and negative account, and has looked at the cracks and fissures where
women’s expressions of sexual desire do break through, or for spaces where they
may feel freer to articulate their own pleasures and longings. Sue Jackson (2005)
argues that, despite a cultural climate that problematizes young women’s sexual-
ity, women’s voices do speak of desire and pleasure – for example, in magazine
problem pages – although they struggle to be heard doing so and for those sexual
subjectivities to be authorized. Anita Harris (2005) finds that young women’s
fanzines, blogs and websites operate as marginal, liminal spaces where women
are able to engage in ‘unregulated dialogue’ and generate their own meanings
about sexual desire. Moreover, Jane Ussher (2005) and Lisa Diamond (2005a)
argue that the stigmatization of same-sex desire may – ironically – operate to
equip young lesbian women better to withstand the cultural forces that seek to
erase or undermine girls’ articulations and experiences of sexual agency.
In this article, I start not from research with young women but from construc-
tions of female sexual agency in the media, specifically advertising. The use of
sex as a means of selling is probably as old as advertising itself and advertising
has long been indicted for contributing to the silencing of women’s desire by
presenting women primarily as objects for male consumption and pleasure (e.g.
Cortese, 1999; Dyer, 1982; Goffman, 1979; Jhally, 1987; Kilbourne, 1999;
Myers, 1986; Williamson, 1978). The key term in feminists’ critical vocabulary
was ‘objectification’ (Kilbourne, 1999), both to analyse the processes at work
and as a slogan of critique: ‘THIS AD OBJECTIFIES WOMEN’ asserted
stickers throughout the 1970s and early 1980s. However, in recent years, adver-
tising has begun to move away from depictions of women as straightforward
objects of the male gaze, and there is a new emphasis in some adverts upon
women’s sexual agency (Gill, 2003; Goldman, 1992; Macdonald, 1995; Winship,
2000), particularly in ads for products targeted at young women. Of course, this
is not a matter of a clear rupture, and adverts depicting women as (sometimes
voracious) sexual subjects did exist in the past (see Williamson, 1978, 1986) just
as traditional ‘objectifying’ representations continue to exist today. Nevertheless,
a clear pattern or trend can be discerned.2 In the UK, it is possible to periodize
this shift quite precisely to 1994 and the impact of advertising ‘bad boy’ Trevor
Beattie’s campaigns for push-up, cleavage-enhancing bras, which had at their
centre sexy models who directly addressed the viewer in a knowing and humor-
ous way. More broadly, the shift was the outcome of the mix of circulating dis-
courses of ‘girl power’, new laddism and the libidinous ‘return’ to sex, after more
than a decade of HIV/AIDS.
Such representations have proliferated in the last decade, prompting discussion
about the ‘sexualization of culture’ (American Psychological Association, Task
Force on the Sexualization of Girls, 2007; McNair, 2002), the ‘pornographication’

of everyday life (McRobbie, 2004b; Paul, 2005), the rise of ‘raunch’ (Levy, 2005)
and, when the representational practices of ‘porno chic’ are used on children and
teens, ‘corporate paedophilia’ (Rush and La Nauze, 2006). Increasingly, it would
appear that, rather than being repressed, sex has become ‘the big story’ (Plummer,
1995) and female sexual desire plays a large part in it. Discourses of women’s
desire, far from being silenced, seem to be everywhere: in magazines promising
better, hotter sex, in the proliferation of self-help guides and memoirs such as ‘How
to Make Love Like a Porn Star’ (Jameson, 2003) or ‘Girl with a One Track Mind’
(Lee, 2006); in the figures of raunchy female pop stars who borrow from the codes
of pornography in their self-presentation, e.g. Christina Aguilera’s ‘Dirrty’ and
‘Stripped’, and at the heart of celebrity culture in which tales of sexy secrets and
‘filthy’ fantasies are everywhere. Advertising, then, is one of a number of sites in
which sexualized representations of (young) women are ubiquitous.
Advertising has changed constantly throughout its history, in response to
changes in the economy, technology, fashion and social relations. But the shifts
that it has undergone in the last two decades have been particularly significant, as
developments in information and communication technologies, the emergence of
a new generation raised on computer games and music television, and the grow-
ing confidence of increasingly ‘media-savvy’ consumers forced a radical rethink
of previous advertising strategies. Advertisers had to respond to ‘sign fatigue’, to
viewer scepticism, and also to the impact of feminism on lifestyles and attitudes
(Goldman, 1992). Women’s increasing financial independence meant that they
became targets for new products and also forced a reconsideration of earlier
modes of representation: showing a woman draped over a car – to take an
emblematic image of sexism from the 1970s – may not be the best strategy if the
aim is to sell that car to women. Moreover, by the late 1980s and early 1990s,
advertisers had begun to recognize the significance of many women’s anger at
being objectified and bombarded with unattainable, idealized images of feminin-
ity. Advertisers started to rethink their engagement with female consumers and
their ways of representing women.
One mode of response was through the incorporation or recuperation of femi-
nist ideas, which could be (re)packaged and rendered safe and unthreatening. A
number of scholars have discussed this (Douglas, 1994; Heath and Potter, 2005;
Lamb and Mikel Brown, 2006; Lazar, 2006; Lury, 1996; Macdonald, 1995;
Whelehan, 2000). Goldman (1992) coined the term ‘commodity feminism’ to
capture the ways in which advertisers attempted to incorporate the cultural power
and energy of feminism while simultaneously neutralizing or domesticating the
force of its social/political critique. As Susan Douglas put it:
[A]dvertising agencies had figured out how to make feminism – and anti
feminism – work for them . . . the appropriation of feminist desires and feminist
rhetoric by Revlon, Lancome and other major corporations was nothing short of
spectacular. Women’s liberation metamorphosed into female narcissism
unchained as political concepts like liberation and equality were collapsed into
distinctly personal, private desires. (1994: 247–8)

This critique is important. In particular, it highlights the involvement of advertis-

ing in what Frederick Jameson (1984) calls the ‘cannibalization’ of ideas, includ-
ing radical ones (see also Berger, 2001; Heath and Potter, 2005). It guards against
the somewhat naive notion that, in appropriating feminist ideas, advertising has
in some sense ‘become feminist’. Its more critical interpretation represents a
significant point of departure for the analysis presented in this article, but here I
am concerned less with the packaging of feminism than with a different response:
namely, the construction of a figure that materializes female sexual agency in a
novel manner in advertising.
The third literature that is significant for this article is poststructuralist writing
about the discipline and regulation of the feminine body and feminine subjectiv-
ity (Bartky, 1990; Bhaskaran, 2004; Blackman and Walkerdine, 1996; Bordo,
1993; Butler, 1990; Elam, 1994; Sawicki, 1991; Walkerdine et al., 2001;
Weedon, 1987) The analysis presented owes much to Foucauldian feminist
analyses that understand power not through notions of domination, but as operat-
ing through normative regulation and governmentality (Bartky, 1990; Bordo,
1993; Sawicki, 1991) As Sandra Lee Bartky puts it in her famous formulation:
Feminine bodily discipline has this dual character: on the one hand, no one is
marched off for electrolysis at the end of a rifle, nor can we fail to appreciate the
initiative and ingenuity displayed by countless women in an attempt to master
the rituals of beauty. Nevertheless, in so far as the disciplinary practices of
femininity produce a ‘subjected and practised’, and inferiorized, body, they must
be understood as aspects of a far larger discipline, an inegalitarian system of
sexual subordination. This system aims at turning women into the docile and
compliant companions of men just as surely as the army aims to turn its raw
recruits into soldiers. (1990: 75)
A key challenge in this body of work has been to understand how this disciplin-
ary power works, exploring the complex relation between culture and subjectiv-
ity in such a way as to render women neither passive, docile subjects, nor the
fictitious autonomous, freely choosing persons of liberal humanism.
Foucault’s stress upon power working through subjects is important here, and
my analysis contributes to an understanding of (sexual) agency as deeply impli-
cated in projects of regulation. As in other contemporary poststructuralist feminist
writing, I am interested in the neoliberal injunctions to ‘be free’, and to ‘choose’
and to render one’s life knowable to discourses of autonomous self-determination
in a manner that renders constraints invisible/unknowable (Walkerdine et al.,
2001). I will argue that to ‘compulsory individuality’ (Cronin, 2000) we may now
have to add compulsory (sexual) agency as a required feature of contemporary post-
feminist, neoliberal subjectivity. My approach, then, focuses less on bodily disci-
pline (cf. Bartky, 1990; Bordo, 1993) than on new constructions of gendered
subjectivity.
This article brings these three bodies of scholarship together to examine con-
structions of female sexual agency in advertising. My ‘data’ are contemporary

adverts. I draw largely upon adverts seen in the UK (where I live), but also point
to examples from the USA, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Hong Kong
and Singapore (where I have spent significant periods with a camera and a note-
book). My analytic approach is a ‘figurative’ one. Following Tyler’s important
work on the figures of the ‘chav’3 and the ‘asylum seeker’ (Tyler, 2006, in press),
I use the term ‘figure’ ‘to describe the ways in which at different historical and
cultural moments, specific bodies become overdetermined and publicly imagined
and represented (figured) in excessive, distorted and/or caricatured ways that are
expressive of an underlying crisis or anxiety’ (Tyler, in press)
This approach is a material-discursive one that understands representations as
not merely representing the world, but as constitutive and generative. It focuses
on the repetition of figures across different media sites in such a way that they
seem to take on a life of their own. In looking at the figure of the ‘chav’, for
example, Tyler is able to explore the ways in which class identities are mediated,
and how ‘the affective and emotional qualities attributed to this figure slide
into corporeal qualities’ (in press) which literally materialize him or her – the
ideological-affective made real.
As noted earlier, in this analysis, I examine the figures of the ‘midriff’, the
‘powerful/vengeful woman’, and the ‘hot lesbian’. Rather than tracking them
across different media or genres (which would be an interesting thing to do), I
focus on their repetition and materialization in advertising, critically examining
them from a feminist poststructuralist perspective.
THE MIDRIFF: FROM SEX OBJECT TO ACTIVE DESIRING (HETERO)SEXUAL

SUBJECT
One of the most significant shifts in advertising in the last decade or more has
been the construction of a new figure: a young, attractive, heterosexual woman
who knowingly and deliberately plays with her sexual power and is always ‘up
for it’ (that is, sex). This figure has become known in some advertising circles as
the ‘midriff’, named after the fashion for exposing this part of the body (often to
reveal pierced belly button and a tattoo on the lower back) that was ubiquitous
between the mid-1990s and the mid-2000s (Quart, 2003; Rushkoff, n.d.).
Elsewhere, she is characterized as the ‘fun fearless female’ (Machin and
Thornborrow, 2003) or simply as a new, more sexually assertive construction of
femininity (Macdonald, 1995). The midriffs might be thought of as a generation
of girls and young women in their teens and 20s in the 1990s, but midriff also
refers to a sensibility characterized by a specific constellation of attitudes towards
the body, sexual expression and gender relations (see Gill, in press). Midriff
advertising has four central themes: an emphasis upon the body, a shift from
objectification to sexual subjectification, a pronounced discourse of choice and
autonomy, and an emphasis upon empowerment.
Perhaps the most striking feature of midriff advertising is the centrality of the

body. If, in the 1950s, it was the home that was the ideal focus for women’s
labour and attention and from which their ‘worth’ was judged, in the new millen-
nium it is the body. A sleek, controlled figure is today essential for portraying
success (Bordo, 1993), and each part of the body must be suitably toned, condi-
tioned, waxed, moisturized, scented and attired. Today, the body is portrayed in
advertising and many other parts of the media as the primary source of women’s
capital. Indeed, there seems to have been a profound shift in the very definition
of femininity such that it is defined as a bodily property rather than a social struc-
tural or psychological one. Instead of caring or nurturing or motherhood (all of
course highly problematic and exclusionary), it is now possession of a ‘sexy
body’ that is presented as women’s key source of identity. This is captured
vividly in an advert for Wonderbra® that shows a young woman wearing only a
black, cleavage-enhancing bra. Situated between the breasts is the following
slogan: ‘I can’t cook. Who cares?’ – making the point that her voluptuous body
is far more important than any other feminine skills or attributes she may or may
not possess.
There has also been a shift in the manner that women’s bodies are presented
erotically. Where once sexualized representations of women in the media pre-
sented them as passive, mute objects of an assumed male gaze, today women are
presented as active, desiring sexual subjects who choose to present themselves in
a seemingly objectified manner because it suits their (implicitly ‘liberated’) inter-
ests to do so. A 1994 advert for Wonderbra pictured model Eva Herzigova’s
smiling/teasing face and her cleavage, and hailed us with a quotation from Mae
West: ‘Or are you just pleased to see me?’ The first part of the quotation – ‘is that
a gun in your pocket?’ with its implication that the male viewer had an erection
– was left out, for us as viewers to fill in. This was no passive, objectified sex
object, but a woman who was knowingly playing with her sexual power.
Similarly, the confident, assertive tone of a Triumph advert from the same
period is quite different from most earlier representations: ‘New hair, new look,
new bra. And if he doesn’t like it, new boyfriend.’
A crucial aspect of both the obsessional preoccupation with the body and the
shift from objectification to sexual subjectification is that this is framed in adver-
tising through a discourse of playfulness, freedom and, above all, choice. Women
are presented as not seeking men’s approval but as pleasing themselves, and, in
so doing, they ‘just happen’ to win men’s admiration. A South African advert for
She-bear lingerie in 1999, for example, featured an attractive young white woman
wearing only her lingerie and a nun’s habit and rosary. The slogan, ‘Wear it for
yourself’, ties the brand identity to women who dress for themselves rather than
for men – even if they are not nuns. ‘If he’s late you can always start without
him’, declares another lingerie advert in which the mise en scène constructs a
picture of seduction, complete with carelessly abandoned underwear, but in
which a sexual partner is absent. Is this genuinely celebrating the joys of mastur-
bation for women or inviting us to feel sexy by imagining ourselves, through an
internalized male gaze, as desirable (in this underwear)?4

Dee Amy-Chinn (2006) eloquently captures this double-edged postfeminist

emphasis on women pleasing themselves in the title of her article about lingerie
advertising: ‘This is just for Me(n)’. Such advertising is at once hailing active
heterosexually desiring (young) women, but does so using a photographic gram-
mar directly lifted from heterosexual pornography aimed at men. The success –
and what is novel about this – is in connecting ‘me’ and ‘men’ and suggesting
there is no contradiction – indeed no difference – between what ‘I’ want and what
men might want of ‘me’. This is clearly complicated, and I would not want to be
understood as saying that there is some kind of essential or necessary contradic-
tion or difference between what women and men want sexually (or in any other
way), but, equally, I do not think it can be assumed that these desires are identi-
cal, given the long history of unequal relations and the missing discourse of
female desire that has denied women an autonomous sexual voice.
Almost as central to midriff advertising as the notions of choice and ‘pleasing
one’s self’, is a discourse of feminine empowerment. This is part of a broader
shift in which products are sold to women with the promise of confidence and
self-esteem: ‘because you’re worth it’. Contemporary advertising targeted at the
midriffs suggests, above all, that buying the product will empower you. ‘I pull the
strings’ asserts a beautiful woman in a black Wonderbra; ‘Empower your eyes’,
says an advert for Shiseido mascara; ‘Discover the power of femininity. Defy
conventions and take the lead’ reads an advert for Elizabeth Arden beauty
products. What is on offer in all these adverts is a specific kind of power – the
sexual power to bring men to their knees. Empowerment is tied to possession of
a slim and alluring young body, whose power is the ability to attract male atten-
tion and sometimes female envy (Goldman, 1992). This is ‘power femininity’: a
‘subject-effect’ of ‘a global discourse of popular postfeminism that incorporates
feminist signifiers of emancipation and empowerment as well as circulating
popular postfeminist assumptions that feminist struggles have ended, that full
equality for all women has been achieved, and that women of today can ‘have it
all’ (Lazar, 2006: 505).
Midriff as Feminist Icon?

The figure of the midriff, then, is notable for opening up a new vocabulary of
representations of women as active, desiring sexual subjects. Midriffs are repre-
sented and interpellated as powerful and playful rather than passive or victimized.
Yet despite this apparently positive shift, I would argue there are good reasons for
avoiding a too easy celebration of the empowered sexual agency constructed in
this form of advertising. Here I highlight five.
First, it is worth noting some of the exclusions of midriff advertising. Most
obviously this includes anyone living outside the heterosexual norm. Contempo-
rary midriff advertising seems to operate within a resolutely heteronormative
economy, in which power, pleasure and subjectivity are all presented in relation
to heterosexual relationships. It is also profoundly racialized, and it is striking to

note how white the figure of the midriff is. Black women’s bodies are presented
sexually in advertising, to be sure, but in ways that differ sharply from the figure
of the active, knowing, desiring sexual subject examined here. (See Gill, forth-
coming, for a longer discussion of the patterns of racializing and classing that are
evident in midriff advertising). Others excluded from the empowering, pleasur-
able address are older women, disabled women, fat women and any woman who
is unable to live up to increasingly narrow standards of female beauty and sex
appeal that are normatively required. These women are never accorded sexual
subjecthood. Indeed, the figure of the ‘unattractive’ woman who seeks a sexual
partner remains one of the most vilified in popular culture – as evidenced by the
repeated circulation and apparent enduring appeal of comedy routines and ‘jokes’
that take as their object of ridicule sexually ‘desperate’ ‘ugly’ women.5 Sexual
subjectification, then, is a highly specific and exclusionary practice and sexual
pleasure is actually irrelevant here; it is the power of sexual attractiveness that is
important.
Midriff advertising is also notable for what it renders invisible: the cost, the
labour, the discipline, the shame, the violence, the pain and the anxiety associated
with disciplining the female body to approximate to current standards of female
beauty (Bartky, 1990). The contemporary ‘beauty myth’ (Wolf, 1990) requires
not simply time-consuming, expensive and sometimes painful labour but, more-
over, demands that this work itself must be invisible (or, as I have argued else-
where [Gill, 2007b], that it must be made knowable in highly specific ways, e.g.
through discourses of ‘pampering’ and ‘self-indulgence’ that occlude its status as
normatively required bodily discipline). The ultimate sleight of hand is neces-
sary: namely, that the unnatural body – the depilated, liposuctioned, Botoxed,
silicon-enhanced body – should be presented as ‘natural’ (Blum, 2003; Braun,
2005; Greer, 1999; Jeffreys, 2005).
The construction of agency in midriff advertising is also problematic.
Women’s agentic capabilities are, it would seem, confined to be aestheticization
of their physical appearances and tied to consumerism. More fundamentally,
midriff advertising articulates a thoroughgoing individualism in which women
are presented as entirely autonomous agents, no longer constrained by any
inequalities or power imbalances. The pendulum swing from a view of power as
something both obvious and overbearing that acted upon entirely docile subjects
towards a notion of women as completely free agents who just ‘please them-
selves’ does not serve feminist or cultural understandings well. It cannot account
for why the look that young women seek to achieve is so similar: if it were the
outcome of everyone’s individual, idiosyncratic preferences, surely there would
be greater diversity, rather than growing homogeneity organized around a slim
yet curvaceous, toned, hairless, young body. Moreover, the emphasis upon choice
simply sidesteps and avoids all the important but difficult questions about how
socially constructed ideals of beauty are internalized and made our own.
These questions have long been at the heart of women’s liberation movements.
Rosalind Coward (1984) argues that women’s relationship to cultural ideals and

therefore to their own image could be described as one of narcissistic damage.

Writing even earlier in the second wave of feminist activism, the
Radicalesbians contended:
We have internalized the male culture’s definition of ourselves. That definition

consigns us to sexual and family functions . . . psychic servicing and perform-
ing society’s non-profit making functions . . . This is called femininity or being
a real woman . . . The consequence of internalizing this role is an enormous
reservoir of self hate poisoning her existence, keeping her alienated from herself,
her own needs and rendering her a stranger to other women . . . As the source of
self hate is rooted in our male given identity we must create a new sense of self.
(Radicalesbians, c. 1970, quoted in Tyler, 2005: 32)
This analysis, I would argue, is not simply a feminist one, but also a psychosocial
argument. It seeks to understand and intervene in the relationship between indi-
vidual and society, between subjectivity and culture, between self and ideology –
to think about how what is ‘out there’ also gets to be ‘in here’.
What interests me in particular is the sophisticated ‘higher’ development of
ideology and power relations such that the ideological is literally materialized,
made real, in the form of constructions of femininity that come straight out of the
most predictable templates of male sexual fantasy, yet which must also be under-
stood as authentically owned by the women who enact them. Part of their force
lies precisely in the fact that they are not understood as ideological (and, indeed,
are understood as not ideological). Writing about the representation of women in
lad magazines, Janice Turner has referred to this as the idea that straight porn has
‘come true’:
Once porn and real human sexuality were distinguishable. Not even porn’s
biggest advocates would suggest a porn flick depicted reality, that women were
gagging for sex 24/7 and would drop their clothes and submit to rough, anony-
mous sex at the slightest invitation. But as porn has seeped into mainstream
culture, the line has blurred. To speak to men’s magazine editors, it is clear
they believe that somehow in recent years, porn has come true. The sexually
liberated modern woman turns out to resemble – what do you know! – the
pneumatic take-me-now-big-boy fuck-puppet of male fantasy after all. (Turner,
2005)
Finally, then, midriff advertising involves a shift in the way that power operates:
it entails a move from an external male-judging gaze to a self-policing narcissistic
one (Bartky, 1990; Bordo, 1993). In this sense, it represents a more ‘advanced’
or pernicious form of exploitation than the earlier generation of objectifying
images to which second-wave feminists objected – because the objectifying male
gaze is internalized to form a new disciplinary regime. Midriff advertising adds a
further layer of oppression. Not only are women objectified (as they were before),
but through sexual subjectification in midriff advertising they must also now
understand their own objectification as pleasurable and self-chosen. If, in earlier
regimes of advertising, women were presented as sexual objects, then this was

understood as something being done to women (from the outside) by a sexist

advertising industry – something that many people began to realize and critique
through the impact of feminist activism. In contemporary midriff advertising,
however, (some) women are endowed with the status of active subjecthood so
that they can ‘choose’ to become sex objects. One of the implications of this shift
is that it renders critique much more difficult, for the mode of power is not exter-
nal oppression but regulation and discipline that take up residency in the psyche
by, quite literally, producing new subjectivities.
THE VENGEFUL WOMAN AND REVENGE ADVERTISING
Closely related to the midriff is the figure of the vengeful sexy woman who has
become another standard character in advertising, a novel way for advertisers to
move away from representations of women as ‘dumb’ or ‘unintelligent’ to being
constructed as powerful, feisty and in control. Revenge adverts put the supposed
love–hate relationship between men and women – the ‘battle of the sexes’ –
centre stage. At the innocuous end of the continuum, adverts for Volkswagen
lamented ‘if only everything in life was as reliable as Volkswagen’, and com-
pared men unfavourably with cars, while Renault adverts cheekily suggested that
‘size matters’. A humorous tone is also found in a television campaign for Fiat
Punto. It showed a young, good-looking, heterosexual couple driving through a
European city. The woman (who is driving) glances at her boyfriend every so
often and notices that he is staring out of the window at every attractive woman
he sees in the street. Getting evidently ever more irritated by this, she finally stops
the car, winds down the window, and proceeds to passionately kiss a handsome
male passer-by. This, the advert tells us, is the ‘spirito di Punto’, a spirit that is
perhaps a hybrid of feminism, revenge fantasy and sheer joie de vivre.
A key theme of revenge adverts is the representation of a woman gaining the
upper hand by punishing a man who has transgressed in some way. Usually the
transgression involves misuse of one of the woman’s possessions – frequently
this is a car. After a long period in which car advertising produced some of the
worst, or at least most iconic, examples of sexism in the media, captured and
creatively ‘rewritten’ by feminists in the 1970s (e.g. ‘If this car was a woman she
would pinch your bottom’ – rewritten to read ‘If this woman were a car she’d run
you down’!), it is perhaps not surprising that companies today have chosen to
market cars to women using an advertising vocabulary that dispenses categori-
cally with the old objectifying discourses and puts women at the wheel both
literally and metaphorically. Contemporary adverts depict women as independ-
ent, powerful and as having profound emotional bonds to their vehicles – bonds,
indeed, that may go beyond the ties they have to male partners. A 2007 advert for
the Toyota Yaris Zinc, for example, shows the car parked in a driveway next to
which we can see a garbage can from which a number of badly misshapen golf
clubs protrude. The slogan reads, ‘Two days earlier: boyfriend puts chewing gum

in the ashtray.’ That the revenge in these adverts is always directed at a sexual
partner, rather than a friend, colleague or family member, is part of what makes
this advertising distinctive, and ties it to the themes of this article, concerned with
sexual agency and empowerment.
Often, moreover, the sexual aspects of the revenge are made explicit. A more
aggressive version of the revenge advert (for Nissan cars) featured men being
subject to violence against their genital regions by women, presumed to be their
partners. In one advert, a man is holding his hands to his groin as if to protect his
genitalia from being kicked. In another, a newspaper clipping featuring the
‘Bobbitt’ case (in which a woman cut off her unfaithful partner’s penis) is pre-
sented. The campaign, with the theme, ‘Ask before you borrow it’ was defended
by Nissan’s advertising agency on the grounds that the adverts were not about
violence towards men, but about women ‘feeling much stronger than ever before’
and being free to react towards men however they want (quoted in BBC, 2003),
implicitly referencing circulating discourses of ‘girl power’ (Winship, 2000).
Another advert (for Lee jeans) that used a distinctly threatening and vicious
image was justified in the same manner, as emblematic of the ‘prevailing Girl
Power mood’ (quoted in BBC, 2003). This poster advert showed a naked man
lying prone, his head just outside the shot, and a woman’s boot pressed against
his buttocks, its stiletto heel hovering menacingly close to the man’s anus and
testicles. The violence of the imagery is reinforced by the slogan ‘Put the boot in’,
designed, the creators of the advert said, to draw attention to the fact that the jeans
were ‘bootcut’. The advert created a storm of controversy in the UK where it was
seen by millions on prime billboard sites. Newspaper columnists demanded to
know whether any company would dream of representing a woman in such a
way, and, if not, why it was acceptable for a man (e.g. Callan, 2001). Some even
suggested that the pendulum of gender power had swung so far the other way that
men now required a dedicated governmental minister to protect their interests
from a hostile, man-hating culture (Reeves, 1999).
What, then, are we to make of these constructions of women’s ‘strength’,
‘empowerment’ and even implied sexual violence? I want to argue that these
representations do not constitute a hopeful widening or diversification of con-
structions of femininity. While they may be relatively new in advertising, they
reference a long iconography of depictions of vengeful women from the jealous
and destructive heroines of classical Hollywood cinema to Glenn Close’s ‘bunny
boiler’ in Fatal Attraction. Obsessive and slightly unhinged, the figure of the
woman set on revenge indexes a tradition that has little or nothing to do with con-
temporary girl power, but rather with its opposite: powerlessness. She cannot
really change things, but simply respond momentarily with an angry, vengeful
gesture that may feel cathartic but leaves the status quo of gender relations intact.
The nastiness of these adverts and of the women within them is also disturbing
and resonates with what we might understand as the ‘new cruelty’ in popular
culture more generally. This is seen, for example, in the makeover shows that
dominate contemporary western TV schedules. Angela McRobbie (2004a) and

others (Wood and Skeggs, 2004) have written about the deliberate reinvigoration
of class antagonisms in such shows, and the growing acceptability of mocking
and insulting people on television. McRobbie recorded the following from her
viewing of the appearance-makeover show What Not To Wear:
‘What a dreary voice’, ‘look at how she walks’, ‘she shouldn’t put that ketchup
on her chips’, ‘she looks like a mousy librarian’, ‘her trousers are far too long’,
‘that jumper looks like something her granny crocheted, it would be better on the
table’, ‘she hasn’t washed her clothes’, ‘your hair looks like an overgrown
poodle’, ‘your teeth are yellow, have you been eating grass?’ And ‘Oh my God
she looks like a German lesbian’. (McRobbie 2004b: 118)
This kind of nastiness has become widespread on television since the advent of
reality shows. It marks a rupture in the public service traditions of British broad-
casting in which making derogatory remarks – particularly about the vulnerable
or less well-off – was regarded as being in poor taste and therefore inappropriate
for television. Today, insults and attacks have moved well beyond shows like Big
Brother and can be heard routinely in talk shows, makeover programmes and
comedy (Finding, 2007). As already noted, the nastiness in revenge adverts some-
times takes the form of a reverse sexual violence, in which women are presented
as sexual attackers and men are the hapless and helpless victims. The disjuncture
between this and the real picture of the incidence of sexual violence is sobering
and should raise serious questions about what is going on in this pattern of repre-
sentation.6 But even when direct violence is not suggested, there is a cruelty that
characterizes the women depicted that I find very troubling. A psychoanalytic
feminist reading might point to the positive or transgressive potential of this kind
of expression of female rage and aggression, and certainly there are pleasures
associated with acts of revenge (and the viewing of them) – which presumably
make images of twisted golf clubs or shirts with their sleeves cut off enjoyable
and satisfying for many viewers. Yet when the aggression is dislocated and
severed from its cause or context – as, for example, in the Lee jeans advert dis-
cussed earlier – it becomes gratuitous cruelty, and even more disturbing because
it is eroticized. In recent years, that cruelty has found free rein in attacks on men
who are overweight. A recent campaign for Budweiser lite beer, for example,
shows a sexy blonde woman saying ‘I don’t chase men who can’t run away’ (i.e.
those with beer bellies). Another advert for Puma running shoes poses the ques-
tion: ‘Why do you run?’ to which the attractive female responds: ‘Because my
friends keep setting me up with fat guys.’ A rotund, chubby man is depicted for
unkind laughter – he looks eagerly at the woman who has dismissed him, proffer-
ing a bunch of flowers. Here he is the figure of fun; she, by contrast, is sexually
powerful, being slim and pretty enough to reject him callously. It is an interesting
reversal of traditional patterns of looking: she is the active sexual subject, he the
object, or, indeed, anti-object/non-subject in a way that is perhaps similar to the
hostility meted out to desiring yet ‘undesirable’ women discussed earlier.7
Perhaps what is most sobering about these adverts is their implicit message

about gender relations, which is bleak to say the least. It is clear that this mode of
representation relies upon a deeply polarized understanding of gender that not
only sees men and women as fundamentally different, but also regards the rela-
tion between us as characterized by competition and animosity (as well as erotic
attraction). What is implicit in all these ads is the idea that the relation between
women and men is a battle, and the battle lines are already drawn, fixed, deter-
mined. The adverts work to animate this sense of conflict by individualizing and
personifying more general notions of the ‘battle of the sexes’. In this way, rather
than opening up possibilities for new ways of living, dreaming or creatively
re-imagining relationships between men and women, the myriad possibilities and
potentialities are closed down and the only option is cruel attack or simply ‘turn-
ing the tables’. This was evident in the Fiat Punto advert mentioned earlier:
the sole way for the woman to express her dismay and distress at her partner’s
behaviour was to do the same to him, to ‘play him at his own game’ – a game, it
should be noted, whose rules she had no part in determining and which, in a
sexist culture, have the odds stacked against women, particularly as they grow
older.
THE ‘HOT LESBIAN’ IN ADVERTISING
The final figure I want to consider is that of the ‘hot lesbian’ who is seen increas-
ingly in contemporary advertising. Lesbian women have historically been almost
invisible in mainstream visual culture and, when they have appeared, representa-
tions have tended to be crude and stereotypical (Creekmur and Doty, 1995; Doty
and Gove, 1997; Jenkins, 2005; Wilton, 1995). In this context, a greater visibility
may be significant not only in offering new representations of femininity, but
also, potentially, in challenging heteronormativity.
The last 10 years have witnessed an increasing number of representations of
lesbians in media and culture – in popular TV series, e.g. Friends, Bad Girls, Ally
McBeal, Sex and the City and, of course, The L Word; in mainstream films such
as Wild Things, Heavenly Creatures, American Pie 2 and Kissing Jessica Stein;
and in celebrity culture more broadly – from k.d. lang’s erotic encounter with
Cindy Crawford (for Vanity Fair magazine) to Madonna’s kisses with Britney
Spears and Christina Aguilera at the 2003 MTV awards. Increasingly, as Garrity
(2001) has noted, lesbian sexuality is ‘hot’.
Advertising is no exception. In June 2007, Commercial Closet, a web-based
organization that monitors gay-themed adverts, had no fewer than 3500 adverts
from 33 countries in its database. This proliferation is partly the result of
flourishing lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) creativity in the wake
of HIV and AIDS, the growing confidence of queer media and a recognition by
companies of the significance of the pink economy (Weeks, 2007). It is also a
result of the cultural coolness currently accruing to queer sexualities; ‘queering’
an advert or deploying lesbian and gay themes seems to be regarded within the

industry as an easy way of adding desirable ‘edginess’ to a product’s image, and

instantly giving it a more trendy, contemporary feel.
The figure of the ‘luscious lesbian’ within advertising is notable for her extra-
ordinarily attractive, conventionally feminine appearance. Women depicted in
this way are almost always slim yet curvaceous, with long flowing hair and make-
up. While this marks a rupture with earlier negative portrayals of lesbians as
manly or ugly, such representations have been criticized for packaging lesbian-
ism within heterosexual norms of female attractiveness (Ciasullo, 2001). Ciasullo
argues that such portrayals work to annihilate the butch. Like the midriff,
then, the hot lesbian seems to rest on multiple exclusions, and in this case those
excluded are precisely those with visibility in establishing lesbianism as a politi-
cal identity: women who reject a traditionally feminine presentation.
The packaging of ‘lesbians’ within conventional norms of heterosexual femi-
nine attractiveness is one way in which the figure appears to be constructed
primarily for a straight male gaze. The manner in which the hot lesbian is
presented also seems designed for male titillation. The figure never appears alone
(unlike the midriff, for example) but is almost always depicted kissing, touching
or locked in an embrace with another woman. Two main strategies appear to
dominate this kind of representation: either each woman will be shown with
her ‘Other’, e.g. a black woman with a blonde light-skinned woman, in ways
reminiscent of many soft porn scenarios in which men choose their ‘type’. Or,
alternatively, they will be shown with another woman whom they resemble
closely. This ‘doubling’ is, of course, another common male sexual fantasy –
which is implicitly alluded to in many adverts. A UK commercial for Beefeater
restaurants, for example, shows two almost identical attractive young, long-
haired, long-legged blonde women together, with the slogan ‘Make it a double’.
Other scenarios also draw on the codes of heterosexual male porn: in an advert
for FCUK clothing, ‘Fashion versus Style’, two scantily clad women are seen
wrestling, until the fight inevitably becomes sexual play and the pair tumble and
writhe together erotically. Not only is this notable for being a stock scene from
soft porn, but it is also markedly different from the way in which gay men are
presented in adverts. While lesbian women rarely appear in mainstream adverts
except in this highly sexualized manner, gay men are rarely portrayed kissing or
even touching – and the kind of erotic contact displayed between women in the
FCUK advert would be unimaginable between two men, even in cinema adver-
tising, which is often more liberally regulated than that of terrestrial TV. Indeed,
notwithstanding Calvin Klein’s Guitar Kiss and a few other celebrated adverts in
which two men embrace, albeit rather chastely, for the most part, gay men are
signified through stylish and attractive appearance rather than intimate conduct.
The figure of the hot lesbian is therefore marked out from both representations of
heterosexual women and representations of gay men.
One way of reading the proliferation of this kind of eroticized imagery, then,
is as a sexualized display designed primarily for the gaze of heterosexual men,
frequently drawing on well-established codes from pornography. Yet it might

also be interpreted in a different way: as a means for companies to continue to

objectify and sexualize women’s bodies but to do so in a manner that evades
charges of sexism – for how can it be sexist, they might protest, if it is about
women’s mutual desire. Just as the feisty sexual agency of the midriff defended
against critiques of the advertisements’ sexism, for she is no object but an active
desiring sexual subject, so, too, the figure of the hot lesbian might be understood
as offering a kind of alibi.
These readings are not mutually exclusive and the representations are poly-
semic. There may also be several other ways in which the figure of the luscious
lesbian could be understood. What does seem clear, however, is that this figure is
invariably constructed in relation to heterosexuality – not as an autonomous or
independent sexual identity. Two examples should make this critique clear. In the
first, ‘Kiss Cool’, a chewing gum is shown having electric and erotic effects. A
young woman chews the gum and suddenly zooms to a haystack where she is
kissing a man. The man then cuts to a car where he is kissing a different woman.
After this kiss, the new lover is suddenly transported onto a sofa and is kissing a
different man. And so it goes on until finally the young woman is in a nightclub
kissing another man, before proceeding to kiss a woman – to the man’s intense
surprise and then apparent indulgent amusement.
It would be hard to sustain the idea that the woman featured in this advert is a
lesbian or even that she is bisexual. Her kiss with another woman is clearly
marked as transgressive in a way that the other kisses were not, and the
camera’s focus on her boyfriend’s shock and then amusement reinforces the
heteronormative economy of gazes within this advert. We as (presumed hetero-
sexual) viewers are invited to look to him to provide a guide to how to react to
this kiss: it is sexy, to be sure, has produced a frisson, but is ultimately not to be
taken seriously as a challenge to her heterosexuality.
This is an example of what Diamond (2005b) has called ‘hetero flexibility’ to
denote heterosexual women ‘experimenting’ sexually with other women – the
notion of experimentation itself signalling its essentially trivial, temporary and
non-serious nature. It presents girl-on-girl action as exciting, fun, but, crucially,
as entirely unthreatening to heterosexuality (see also Wilkinson, 1996).
Arguably, one of the pernicious aspects of this is that it allows advertisers to buy
into the ‘hot’, ‘now’ social currency of queer while erasing lesbianism as such. In
a truly queer world in which sexual identities no longer mattered, this might be
welcomed, but, in a context in which heteronormativity remains powerful and
non-normative sexualities are marginalized, it appears entirely cynical. Indeed, a
key facet of many constructions of the hot lesbian is precisely the stress on her
inauthenticity – something that young audiences in a study by Tamsin Gilbertson
and Sue Jackson (forthcoming) articulated clearly. To them, such figures were
not real but performances designed to titillate men or to annoy or punish a
boyfriend. Such readings resonate strongly with adverts such as ‘Kiss Cool’. In
this sense, lesbian identity is obliterated even before it is created. Only a beauti-
ful, eroticized simulacrum remains for the pleasure of heterosexual men.

The second example is an advert for Boisvert lingerie, created by the Saatchis
and screened in cinemas. An attractive, naked woman is shown stepping into her
bedroom and slowly putting on her sexy black underwear. Later, dressed in a
black suit, she enters a restaurant, and shots of her earlier dressing routine are
intercut with appreciative looks from men in the restaurant. She then joins her
shorthaired companion, of whom we see only a back shot, and they exchange a
passionate kiss. Only then is it revealed that the woman’s companion is another
woman. The question ‘Do men deserve this?’ is then flashed up on the screen,
followed by the answer: ‘No’. The advert is, according to its creative director,
aimed at women who ‘please themselves and who do not necessarily want to
please men’ (quoted in Lee, 1996). However, while this explicit message is that
Boisvert lingerie is too good for men (they don’t deserve it), it is scarcely credi-
ble that the advertiser’s only target audience is affluent lesbian women. Instead,
it is referencing/reproducing a well-known male fantasy (repeatedly reworked in
pornography) while implying that the purchase of this underwear is actually all
about women pleasing themselves and each other.
This advert, again, is constructed from within heteronormativity: its entire
construction is framed in relation to men. Moreover, it draws on some of the
problematic themes identified in relation to revenge advertising: the notion of
making oneself into a commodity to be rationed, and the idea of punishing men
– in this case through withholding sexual ‘favours’, because men do not deserve
them. Meanwhile, it offers up the spectacle of sexual intimacy between women,
with a knowing wink.
CONCLUSION
This article has been concerned with the ways in which empowerment – and
specifically female sexual agency – is packaged in contemporary advertising.
Three new constructions have been considered: the figure of the active heterosexu-
ally desiring ‘midriff’, the ‘vengeful, sexy woman’ set on punishing her male part-
ner for his transgressions, and the ‘hot lesbian’, almost always depicted kissing or
holding another woman. These three figures are notable in opening up a new mode
of representing women. Instead of passive, ‘dumb’ or unintelligent sex objects,
these women are shown as active, beautiful, smart, powerful sexual subjects.
In some respects, this shift is a positive one, offering modernized representa-
tions of femininity that allow women power and agency, and do not define
women exclusively as heterosexual. In particular, it is striking that in all three
constructions women’s sexual agency is flaunted and celebrated, rather than
condemned or punished. This marks a significant disruption to older more estab-
lished patterns of visual culture in which no such active sexuality was permitted
to women without grave consequences (Kaplan, 1998; Mulvey, 1975) The fact
that lesbian desire can be depicted without apology in mainstream culture might
be seen as particularly significant.

To enable a full assessment of the meaning of this shift, research with female
viewers/audiences is necessary to ascertain the kind of sense that different
women make of these various depictions. Perhaps the active, desiring voice of the
midriff is experienced as pleasurable and empowering for some women – an
acknowledgement of sexual subjecthood which disrupts or responds to the miss-
ing discourses of female desire. My students often champion this reading when I
discuss such representations with them. Alternatively, midriff advertising might
be experienced as a new kind of tyranny, an obligation to be sexual in a highly
specific kind of way. Likewise, revenge adverts might represent for some
viewers sexy, powerful women who are not going to put up with poor treatment
from men, yet may appear to others as part of a negative pattern of portraying
women as ‘ball breakers’. The proliferation of images of woman–woman sexual
action, too, might be welcomed by some as giving visibility to non-heterosexual
forms of desire, or those same images may be regarded as pernicious for their
framing of lesbianism within a male, heteronormative gaze.
In this article, I have cautioned against too celebratory a reading of these
figures. I have pointed to some of the silences and exclusions of these construc-
tions of ‘power femininity’ (Lazar, 2006), highlighted the harshness – even
cruelty – of some of the representations, and drawn attention to the ways in which
they are embedded in other – sometimes problematic – traditions in mainstream
film or pornography.
Above all, I want to highlight three critical points. The first relates to the new
forms of power expressed or configured through these constructions. Power
operates here not by silencing or suppressing female sexual agency, but by
constructing it in highly specific ways. Power works in and through subjects, less
by modes of domination than through discipline and regulation. A number of
scholars have discussed this in relation to female embodiment (Bartky, 1990;
Bordo, 1993; Sawicki, 1991), but here I have argued that sexual agency as it is
constructed through these three figures also becomes a regulatory project (Butler,
1990), and mode of governmentality (Gill, 2003; Harris, 2005; Rose, 1989).
Thus, rather than agency or ‘voice’ being the solution to the silencing of women’s
desire identified by Fine and others, it becomes itself part of the apparatus that
disciplines and regulates feminine conduct, that gets ‘inside’ and reconstructs our
notions of what it is to be a sexual subject. Writing about the ‘modernization’ of
romance narratives, Hilary Radner has argued that, whereas the classical roman-
tic heroine offered ‘virtue’, innocence and goodness as the commodities she
brought to the sexual/marriage marketplace, contemporary romances demand a
‘technology of sexiness’ (Radner, 1993, 1999). In the post-Cosmopolitan (maga-
zine) west, heroines must no longer embody virginity but are required to be
skilled in a variety of sexual behaviours and practices. The performance of
confident sexual agency, I would suggest, is central to this new disciplinary
technology of sexiness.
Second, adverts built around these three figures are interesting for the ways in
which they depict contemporary gender relations. There are some stark differ-

ences between the constructions. In adverts featuring hot lesbians, men are
presented as irrelevant or undeserving of women’s attention – in such a way, as
noted earlier, that serves paradoxically to recentre their desires and interests. This
is underscored by the visual images that seem designed for heterosexual male
pleasure. In midriff advertising, by contrast, men are explicitly (‘Hello boys!’) or
implicitly hailed by the young attractive models who feature, and the relations
between women and men are depicted as egalitarian and playful. Any sense of
inequality, of a power imbalance, is erased in the vocabulary of midriff advertis-
ing. Violence too seems literally to have been conjured away. In one ad, an attrac-
tive young woman is depicted wearing just a bra, her arm stretched high in the
internationally recognized gesture for hailing a taxi. ‘I bet I can get a cab on New
Year’s Eve 1999’ she declares, laughing. Here, again, the exposed breasts are a
source of male-attention-grabbing power, a way to defeat notorious concerns
about taxi queues (which were particularly acute – and much talked about – on the
Millennium Eve.) But the representation is entirely shorn of any suggestion of the
very real and serious violence that might threaten any woman so scantily attired,
late at night, in the midst of large numbers of men who are drinking heavily.
In revenge adverts, violence is given space, but here it is female violence
against men. We must wonder what ideological work is effected by such adverts,
which systematically erase male violence against women while implying that
the reverse is common. In its political significance it is like having a genre of
depictions of racism that only feature white people being attacked by black
people! More broadly, I have sought to demonstrate what a bleak and hostile
vision of gender relations is presented in these adverts, which suggest that the
‘solution’ to male ‘bad behaviour’ is simply to ‘turn the tables’, to invert the
relationship. Thus women in revenge adverts mock, humiliate and attack men, yet
we are invited to see this as in some way empowering for women – in a distor-
tion of feminism that somehow seems to suggest that, if women are doing well,
then men must be disadvantaged.
Finally, I want to emphasize the ways in which all three of these new figures
operate within a profoundly heteronormative framework. The midriff’s feisty,
up-for-it sexuality is framed exclusively in relation to men; the target of female
revenge adverts is always a male (ex-)partner, and even the figure of the hot
lesbian may, as we have seen, be read as a construction designed primarily for the
heterosexual male gaze (though, of course, it may be pleasurable for lesbian
women too).8 Commodity lesbians (Clark, 1993), as we have seen, are always
young, always beautiful and always seductively entwined with another sexually
appealing young woman. They do not reject men as sexual partners so much as
beckon to them, offering a heady mix of the coolness of queer, alongside the
sexual objectification of women’s bodies, and the soft-porn-sexiness of seeing
two attractive women engaging in intimate sexual conduct.
What is striking is the way in which advertisers have managed in these three
figures to recuperate and commodify a particular kind of feminist consciousness
and offer it back to women shorn of its political critique of gender relations and

heteronormativity. A new version of female sexual agency is on offer that breaks

in important ways with the sexual objectification and silencing of female desire
of earlier advertising. Yet in refiguring female sexual agency in these particular
ways, it raises new problems and challenges. If this is empowerment, we might
ask, then what does sexism look like? And if second-wave slogans such as ‘THIS
AD OBJECTIFIES WOMEN’ are no longer effective in a mediascape populated
by active sexual subjects, what kind of cultural politics is equal to the task of
resisting contemporary representations?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am very grateful to Sadie Wearing, Christina Scharff, Ginny Braun, Nicola Gavey,
Sharon Lamb and one anonymous referee for their helpful and stimulating comments on
this article.
NOTES
1. I am grateful to Dave Harper for drawing my attention to this article.

2. Elsewhere (Gill, 2007a) I have discussed whether the term ‘objectification’ – so long
the central term in feminists’ critical lexicon for analysing adverts (Kilbourne, 1999) –
remains pertinent given the shift away from depictions of women as mute,
passive objects.
3. A term of class hatred, used in the UK as a form of attack on working-class people.
4. How to read this? There are real difficulties in analysing it. On one hand, it might be
thought of as celebrating women’s masturbation and self-pleasuring (at last an advert
that acknowledges that women masturbate, that men are not ‘necessary’ even to
heterosexual women’s pleasure), yet, on the other, it appears that the promised arousal
comes partly from the woman addressed having imagined herself as sexy (in this under-
wear) through the internalization of a male gaze – a traditional scenario in which she
turns herself into a desirable, sexy object for him. And yet doesn’t all sex involve both
feelings of desire and desirability? Isn’t the internalization of the Other simply a part
of sex’s inherently relational character? Is the promised arousal necessarily politically
retrogressive from a feminist perspective? Difficult questions.
5. I do not want to reproduce any of these here, so am relying on readers’ familiarity with
this kind of offensive material from their own context in order to make this point.
6. The British Crime Survey estimates that there were 47,000 rapes and 190,000 serious
sexual assaults against females in 2002. The incidence (reporting) of rape has been
increasing year on year in Home Office statistics, while conviction rates have been
decreasing over the same period. The conviction rate for rape is now between 5 percent
and 6 percent – the lowest for any serious crime. A UK Home Office report published
in July 2007 (set up to look at appalling low conviction rates) found that more than two-
thirds of cases were dropped at the police stage and did not even make it to the courts
(Nicholas et al., 2007). A culture of scepticism and woman-blaming contributes to this,
and an Amnesty International survey in 2005 found that up to one-third of members of

the British public believed that a woman was in part responsible for rape if she had been
drinking, was dressed provocatively or had had a number of sexual partners (see
Amnesty International, 2005).
7. I am grateful to Ginny Braun for this point. However, these representations are
not equivalent in any straightforward way, not least because of the significance of the
long cultural history of the beauty myth, and the evaluation of women by their appear-
ance.
8. At a recent event on ‘The Future of Gender Theory’ held at Goldsmiths College,
London, in July 2007, queer activists responded angrily to a feminist paper that
explored the ways in which heterosexual audiences interpreted representations of
‘hot lesbians’ on TV. Rather than pointing out the heteronormative framing, and the
refraction through an implied male gaze, they argued, why was the author not looking
at lesbian viewing pleasures instead. My argument here is that these options are not
mutually exclusive. It is important to locate the potential lesbian pleasures to be derived
from viewing such representations, but it is also important to examine how they remain
framed in highly problematic – sexist and heteronormative – ways.
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Rosalind GILL is Professor of Social Psychology and Cultural Theory at the

Open University, UK. Prior to this appointment she worked for 10 years at the
London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) helping to establish
the LSE’s international interdisciplinary Gender Institute. Her research focuses
on gender, media and new technologies, and she has a longstanding interest
in questions of power, ideology and the relationship between culture and
subjectivity. Her most recent book is Gender and the Media (Polity Press, 2007),
and she is currently co-editing (with Roisin Ryan Flood) a collection on Secrecy
and Silence in the Research Process, to be published in Routledge’s
Transformations in Feminism series next year.
ADDRESS: Faculty of Social Sciences, Open University, Walton Hill, Milton
Keynes MK7 6AA, UK.
[email: [email protected]]

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ARTICLES

Empowerment/Sexism: Figuring Female Sexual Agency

Key Words: feminism, postfeminism, power, subjectivity

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INTRODUCTION: ‘TODAY’S WOMAN LIVES IN AN ALMOST CONSTANT

‘Women Now Empowered by Everything a Woman Does’ declares a recent

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ADVERTISING, POWER AND FEMALE SEXUAL AGENCY

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extensive interview data to argue that heterosexuality is constructed from within

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This critique is important. In particular, it highlights the involvement of advertis-

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THE MIDRIFF: FROM SEX OBJECT TO ACTIVE DESIRING (HETERO)SEXUAL

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Dee Amy-Chinn (2006) eloquently captures this double-edged postfeminist

Midriff as Feminist Icon?

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therefore to their own image could be described as one of narcissistic damage.

We have internalized the male culture’s definition of ourselves. That definition

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understood as something being done to women (from the outside) by a sexist

THE VENGEFUL WOMAN AND REVENGE ADVERTISING

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THE ‘HOT LESBIAN’ IN ADVERTISING

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industry as an easy way of adding desirable ‘edginess’ to a product’s image, and

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also be interpreted in a different way: as a means for companies to continue to

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heteronormativity. A new version of female sexual agency is on offer that breaks

1. I am grateful to Dave Harper for drawing my attention to this article.

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Ciasullo, A. (2001) ‘Making Her (In)Visible: Cultural Representations of Lesbianism and

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Winship, J. (2000) ‘Women and Outdoors: Advertising, Controversy and Disputing

Rosalind GILL is Professor of Social Psychology and Cultural Theory at the

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