Sexism and Gendered Workplace Competition: Christina Lauren's DATING YOU / HATING YOU

I've written about several different battle of the sexes romance novels here in RNFF, particularly BotSs that take place in male-privileged work spaces (Julie James, anyone?), and even proposed possible guidelines for crafting feminist BofSs storylines. So I thought I knew what would be in store when I picked up Christina Lauren's latest contemporary comic romance, Dating You / Hating You. Two Hollywood agents "meet awkward" at a party, then go on a first date. But when their competing agencies merge, the two wind up pitted against each other for the same spot in the "Features" department that will remain after the post-merger reorganization. The book's sell copy makes the BofS's theme perfectly clear: "What could have been a beautiful, blossoming romance turns into an all out war of sabotage. Carter and Evie are both thirtysometing professionals—so why can't they act like it?"

What I wasn't expecting was to discover that Carter (who is actually twenty-eight to Evie's thirty-three) wasn't the embodiment of unthinking sexism that the male half of most BofS's romances typically feature. No, Carter espouses none of the privileged male beliefs that undergird most sexist workplaces: no assumption that men are more, women are less; no belief that his way is the best way and her way is the wrong way; no taking-it-for-granted that equal opportunity for women really means that men are getting the short end of the workplace stick. Carter's approach to agenting is far different from Evie's, yes, but he views their strengths as complimentary, rather than at odds, and has a deep respect for her talents and accomplishments.

But even without overt sexism, the authors suggest, competition, even between friends and prospective lovers, can lead colleagues to anger and frustration. For a people-pleaser like Carter, such feelings are difficult to openly acknowledge. Especially when both Evie and Carter are still smoldering from the sparks of frustrated sexual desire. And so, despite their continual assurances that they can and will work together to undermine the winner-take-all situation in which their boss has placed them, both Carter and Evie find themselves pulling back, and even slipping into more defensive, aggressive postures, at the least sign of unfair or privileged behavior in the other. Because underneath their agreeableness, each one believes the other has the advantage: Carter, because his company was the one that got bought out, and he's now working for Evie's boss; Evie, because she sees how her sexist boss keeps favoring his fellow male colleague and undercutting her work.

Both Evie and Carter are über competent, über in-love with their jobs, and über competitive, qualities which lead not to a "war of sabotage," but rather to a series of amusing pranks—Evie substituting decaf cups in Carter's Keurig; Carter replacing Evie's go-to hand cream with bronzer; Evie taping over the speaker in Carter's phone; Carter loading the air system in Evie's car with glitter. But as the work tension escalates, will the pranks edge over into more damaging work-related sabotage?

Carter may not be openly sexist, but the novel shows that he's definitely the beneficiary of male privilege, privilege that he is not that aware of, and is not all that willing to acknowledge. He'd rather believe that he and Evie are on even footing. But Carter isn't blind, and he gradually begins to realize that even if he isn't behaving in a sexist manner, his competitive instincts have led him to overlook, or even contribute to, the sexist environment at the office: "I guess we could go with when our boss knocked Evie's breakfast [a doughnut] into the trash because he's a sexist dick, and I just sat there and watched. Or when I let her sit through a meeting with two of her shirt buttons undone. Two very important buttons," as he admits to his best friend (199). It takes his own growing self-awareness, as well as a good talking-to by another agent, the wife of said best friend, to accept that the "normal" he's taken for granted isn't the same normal Evie lives with:

"Playing into Brad's sexism? That makes me angry at you, Carter. Its hard enough for a woman to be taken seriously in this business and seen as a person with a brain and not an object. Men get passes for acting like it's 1960 and every woman in the office is their secretary. Evie will have to be smarter, faster, and better at her job than you are, for possibly less money and a whole lot less recognition, all while appearing totally grateful for it" (200)

Which (along with some prank-ful starch in his suit), leads Carter to a moment of clear self-awareness, a moment he shares with Evie:

     "So here's the thing, Evie: if we put our heads down, and do our jobs, and stay out of each other's way, then we can just be colleagues."
     She gives me an aggressive shrug. "Okay? Sounds good to me."
     "Colleagues. That's it," I say, and her shoulders fall a little as she gets where I'm going with this. My heart is pounding so hard, I have to pull off my suit jacket so I don't feel like I'm going to hyperventilate. Evie watches me take it off and drop it next to us, eyes rapt as she looks back to my face.
     "Passing in the hallway, small talk, work emails. Whatever this is," I say, waving between us, "would go away. You may not like the glitter explosion in your car, but at least you know I was thinking about you when I did it." I pause, swallowing. "At least now you know I can't stop thinking about you." (220)

It takes some more back and forthing, some managing of competitive flare-ups and honest discussions of privilege and feelings, before Evie and Carter can begin to come close to figuring out how to work as true colleagues, rather than as cutthroat competitors. And some seriously hot trysts before they can come together not just as friends but as lovers, rather than sublimating their desires for one another into secret, silly sabotage.



Stop here if you don't want the ending of the book to be spoiled for you...


My one disappointment with the book was in the way it ended up dealing with its sexist villain, Evie and Carter's boss, Brad. He's never done anything that would break any of the equal opportunity rules at their company, but his behavior towards Evie is overtly sexist throughout the story. But it turns out that said sexism is not the reason for his ultimate downfall; instead, it turns out that he was trying to get Evie fired because he worried that she was on to his embezzlement scheme. Brad doesn't get fired for being sexist, but gets arrested for being a criminal. In one way, you can read this as a wish-fulfillment fantasy: that the condescending sexist pig you work with would be sent to jail for his piggish behavior. But on the other, it suggests the difficulties in taking a sexist pig to task for his sexist behavior, even in today's purportedly equal opportunity workplace. Brad can only be punished because he's an embezzler, not because he's unfair to his female employees.


Illustration credits:
When you Disagree: Hello Giggles

Christina Lauren

Dating You / Hating You

Gallery Books, 2017

What Makes for a Good Battle of the Sexes Romance?

What makes for a good battle of the sexes romance? This question was much on my mind while I read reading Kate Meader's contemporary, Playing with Fire, which made both Publishers Weekly's and The Washington Post's lists of best romances of 2015. Though neither list's summary of the book includes the phrase, I think I can be forgiven for hoping that I'd found my catnip, a romance novel focused on two protagonists of the opposite sex who duke it out not only on their own behalves, but also on behalf of their sex, after reading the following:

...a smart, sexy book that stars Alexandra, a smart-mouthed, rough-and-tumble firefighter who has worked hard to succeed in a world where femininity is considered a weakness. Her hero? The handsome, eligible mayor of Chicago, how is about as masculine as it gets and has clear aspirations for higher office. These two are all wrong for each other, which, of course, makes their eventual match that much more rewarding. Their verbal sparring is tremendously fun, and when they finally succumb to their attraction, sparks fly (literally and figuratively). (Sarah MacLean, Washington Post)

Meader's flawless contemporary is a lust-hate match between a conservative mayor and a female firefighter. She thinks he's anti woman and anti-union; he thinks she's a dangerous hothead. Deft characterization, high stakes, and unabashed sexual hunger drive the gripping fast-paced story. (Publishers Weekly)

In many respects, Meader's book is an ideal romance novel. The writing is crisp, the dialogue is both funny and smart, and the characters each undergo clear development arcs before they can make their unlikely relationship a success. And the sexual tension between its protagonists, Alexandra and Eli, is smoking hot.

But somehow, despite its many positive qualities, I found myself getting really annoyed with Meader's book. And led me to the question, just what, and what doesn't, at least for me, makes for a true battle of the sexes book. Here are a few thoughts.


1. The female combatant has to appreciate other women, and women's concerns

Alexandra is a firefighter, the only woman in Chicago's Engine Company 6. Professionally, then, she is a feminist; she is carving out a job for herself in a traditionally male-only space. Yet Alex grew up surrounded by boys (4 foster brothers), and idolizes her now-dead firefighter adopted father. Because of this, and because of her physical size (larger than the average woman), I got the feeling that she had internalized many of the gender assumptions that typically go along with male, rather than female, socialization.

For example, Alex doesn't tend to have much respect for other women, as she reveals during this interchange with her potential love interest, Eli Cooper, the mayor of Chicago:

"You trade on your looks with the female voters, Mr. Mayor. All style, no substance."
     "So women vote for me because of how I look, and not because of the issues? You're very dismissive of your gender, Alexandra."
     Too right, she always had been. She was tougher and stronger than practically every woman she knew. It bothered her that the female sheep bought shares in the crap Eli Cooper shoveled by the bucketful. (73)

And wth the notable exception of two of her brothers' recently acquired girlfriends (a contrivance which allows characters from previous stories to pop up for guest appearances), Alex does not have, and has never had, she reports, any real female friends. Alex is not a girly girl; are we supposed to assume she ostracized by more typically feminine mean girls as a kid? Alex finds herself far more comfortable in the male world of the firehouse, even despite the male hazing she purportedly must endure (but which, significantly, we are rarely shown), than with other women who are not relatives.

Alex is deemed outspoken, a characteristic that many would find positive (in opposition to Eli, who can't stand Alex's "total lack of a filter"). But the expressions Alex used to express that outspokenness often set me on edge. Not because she swears, but because her language is often unthinkingly misogynistic:

     Across the table in the farmer-chic restaurant Smith & Jones, Alex Dempsey blinked at heir thirty-fourth date in ten months and pondered a suitable response. Perhaps the smartass retort, which she could manage in her sleep. Or the bitch-slap, which would be eminently more satisfying. (1, emphasis added)

"Less than two months to the election and you're hovering under forty percent."
     "All that matters are the numbers on the night."
     "Still, I'm sure you have babies to kiss, MILFs to ogle." Donor dicks to suck. "Don't let me stop you." (8, emphasis added)

"I"m not sure I was prepared for the womankind backlash I'd case if I didn't [rescue Eli from a fire]. Gnashing of teeth, gouging of hair, deflation of breasts. Just doing my part for the sisterhood." (66)

She should pull away, even though she had begged for it [his "brutal" kiss] with her smart mouth" (77)

She hadn't gone to her high school prom because no one had been interested (or brave) enough to ask her, and now she felt like she was getting another chance with the star quarterback. She'd be the envy of all the other bitches. Go Wildcats! (166, emphasis added)


Alex's language and sense of humor make sense from a character standpoint, given the predominantly male environment in which she was raised. Yet her unquestioning adoption of language that relies for much of its charge on denigration of other women makes me more than a little uncomfortable investing in her as a feminist icon.

Occasionally, Alex will say or think something that suggests she's aware of sexism ("Derek Phelan, who was lower than her on the rookie pole but didn't seem to feel the effects. The penis benefit" [86]). But such instances occur far less frequently than thoughts and comments that, intentionally or not, denigrate women. Which really bothered me.


2. No battle in which the sexism is primarily for show

Weirdly, despite Eli's sexist insistence that women shouldn't be firefighters, it is Eli, not Alex, who puts a feminist name to what Alex must be experiencing, both on the job and in her male-dominated family:

For the first time, Eli saw how hard she had it. He'd thought it was limited to institutional misogyny, but she was getting it from every angle. The press, her coworkers, and even the brother who was like a father figure to her. (283)

A man who knows the phrase "institutional misogyny," can use it correctly in a sentence, and actually believes it's real—and he believes men are superior to women? No, not so much, as it turns out. Alex pegged Eli as a "patriarchal woman hating asshole" after Eli "made it clear that firefighting and breasts were incompatible" in the previous book in Meader's series (9). I haven't read Flirting with Fire, but from what occurs in this book, it seems as if Eli's taunting is more a way to deflect attention away from his own attraction to Alex than a reflection of his deeply-held belief in the inferiority of the opposite sex. His campaign manager is a woman, and he appears to have no trouble working with other females. Is it really a battle of the sexes book if one of the battling parties is only expressing sexist beliefs in order to yank the other's chain?


3. No sexist behavior recast as attractive masculinity

While Eli's beliefs aren't really sexist, many of his actions felt misogynistic, at least to this reader. But the novel doesn't endorse such an interpretation of them. Instead, Eli's drive to protect, to control, and to dominate Alex are presented either as sexual turn-ons, or as positive qualities that reflect Eli's appropriately masculine love for Alex. For example

Guy making a decision on behalf of the girl, for her own benefit:

In the novel's opening scene, Eli threatens the police officer with whom Alex is dining with demotion if he doesn't leave Alex mid-date. Said police officer is a jerk, no doubt, talking about Alex behind her back ("Dyke or not, she's up for it tonight. Keeps leaning in to give me a good view, y'know. She's a bit chunky, but they're usually the most grateful ones" [17]), but is Eli any better for taking matters into his own hands, rather than allowing Alex to figure it out for herself? "She was a woman of incredibly poor judgment. And she needed saving from herself," Eli thinks to herself (19). By the end of the book, Eli is apologizing for this behavior, but Alex doesn't say "yeah, jerky behavior!" but smiles, and lets him off the hook.


Traditional romance novel male protectiveness:

Alex saves Eli from a fire (but of course he got caught in said fire because he ran back to save another woman first). And then Eli gets to save Alex in turn, when she passes out from smoke inhalation. In the hospital, after the rescue, the two verbally spar:

"It's a man's job to take care of—"
"Be careful, Mr. Mayor."
"A woman. So it's a good thing I made up for it by saving your ass" (47)

And again, after they first begin fake-dating: 

"After tomorrow with a few pictures online, it won't be necessary. It'll be clear that you're under my protection."
     My protection. Falling under a man's shield was the one thing she had been fighting her whole life, but when Eli said it, she enjoyed an erotically forbidden thrill at the prospect. (109)


And, of course, dominant-guy sexual hotness:

"You need to be taken in hand," he rasped, every word a provocative puff of air against her lips. "You are wayward and out of control, and a danger to yourself, and if I wasn't your boss, if I wasn't worried about all the lines I've no doubt crossed every additional sec on I spend with you, I would be the one to tame you."
     Do it, her lust-scrambled brain urged. Take me in hand. Use those big, forceful hands to take me and tame me. (76)

     "I just don't want to be with someone who doesn't respect me and what I do. Or who's using me to get ahead."
     Kinsey hummed. "Not even for the amazing orgasms, orgasm hog?"
     Alex opened her mouth. Closed it. Maybe she'd been looking at this all wrong. What did it matter what she thought of his worldview, his total lack of political correctness, or even his sketchy motives as long as he was delivering the goods in the bedroom, the hallway, or maybe a fire truck? Since when had she become so fussy? (168-69)


During the novel's climactic scene, in which Eli does some major groveling to atone for his characteristic manipulative ways, he tells Alex, "You said I never saw you as an equal and you were right, but not the way you think. You're a goddess and I'm not worthy to worship at your feet, but I'm happy to spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough for you" (350). Quite a major turnaround from the previous dynamics of their relationship.

But it's not a shift that appears to be permanent, or which excludes Eli acting in the dominating manner to which he has become accustomed. Weirdly, we never hear Eli recanting his belief that women firefighters are less able than male ones, only that "He might never fully come to terms with the dangers she faced in the job she loved, but he didn't nag. Just gave her the support and respect she needed" (359).

And perhaps this is what really makes Playing with Fire not feel like a true battle of the sexes book. As a reader, I'm not sure if Alex wants a romantic relationship in which the partners consider each other equals, or a relationship in which she is dominated by a strong male, or one in which she is worshipped as an all-powerful goddess. I'm guessing that she (and we, by proxy) are supposed to want all three. Simultaneously.

And all without admitting that that is nigh near impossible.


Photo credits:
Challenge Girl Hate: We Heart It
End Institutional Misogyny: crunchings and munchings

Battle of the Sexes, Courtroom Style: Julie James' PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

Shakespeare's Beatrice and Benedict. Howard Hawks's Hildy Johnson and Walter Burns. George Cukor's Adam and Amanda Bonner. Tennis's Bobby Riggs and Billy Jean King. The battle of the sexes comedy has been a staple of stage, screen, and popular culture since Aristophanes' Lysistrada. But in the genre of the contemporary romance, true battle of the sexes storylines seem remarkably few and far between. Perhaps this is because the heterosexual romance novel is, at its heart, always about a struggle between a woman and a man, so writers feel little need to write explicitly about gender politics. Or perhaps it is a sign of our purportedly post-feminist times, when many believe that feminism has achieved its goals and therefore is no longer useful or even necessary. Plots that take issue with such a belief may find it more difficult to find a ready readership.

Benedict and Beatrice battle it out in Much Ado about Nothing

But with Practice Makes Perfect, author Julie James proves herself more than up to the challenge of crafting a compelling battle of the sexes romance, one as funny as it is politically savvy. The story's heroine, Payton Kendall, daughter of a openly feminist single mother, has worked her butt off for the past eight years, striving to prove herself at the high-powered Chicago law firm she joined just after law school. Because of her mother's feminist teachings, Payton recognizes that she has to work harder than most men to achieve her goal of making partner; though her firm may openly declare its commitment to women ("In order to honor its commitment to the policies created by the Committee for the Retention of Women, the firm is proud to announce that it has set a goal of increasing the number of female partners by 10 percent by next year" [19]), the unwritten cultural assumptions of the firm still favor men.

For example, Payton's boss, Ben, isn't quite comfortable with women:

She had begun to suspect that Ben—while never blatantly unprofessional—had a more difficult time getting along with women. It certainly wasn't an unlikely conclusion to draw. Law firms could be old-fashioned at times and unfortunately, female attorneys still had a bit of an 'old boy network' to contend with. (4)

If collegiality plays into decisions about who makes partner and who doesn't, then Ben's discomfort with Payton and other female associates places a barrier between them and advancement, particularly if Ben and others like him aren't aware of (or aren't willing to acknowledge) their own biases.

Sometimes Payton can be pragmatic about the everyday sexism she faces at the office, and in the courtroom:

A jury consultant she had worked with during a particularly tricky gender discrimination trial had told her that jurors—both men and women—responded more favorably to female lawyers who were attractive. While Payton found this to be sadly sexist, she accepted it as a fact nonetheless and thus made it a general rule to always put her best face forward, literally, at work. (2)

But when the sexism presents her with a challenge she can't over come (such as a colleague taking their mutual client to a golf club that doesn't allow women), her frustration, and her sarcasm, go into overdrive. As she complains to fellow associate Laney:

"The problem is, getting business is part of the business. It's like a ritual with these guys: 'Hey, how 'bout those Cubs'"—the bad male impersonation was back—'"let's play some golf, smoke some cigars. Here's my penis, there's yours—yep, they appear to be about the same size—okay, let's do some deals.'" (33).

Complaining about socializing may strike some as petty. But Payton knows that the way male lawyers can choose activities that exclude women and use them as an opportunity to forge relationships with other male lawyers, and with clients, gives them an advantage in a culture where the social and the business worlds are far from separate.

A true battle of the sexes comedy requires not only a heroine pointing out the failings of men, but a man who will take equal relish in doing the same of women. Payton's opponent at the law firm is one J. D. Jameson, cocky, privileged scion of a wealthy Chicago family. Ever since J.D. and Payton started in the same "class" at the firm, they've engaged in an undeclared competition, striving to prove to the firm, and to themselves, that each is better than the other. And the battle is edging into outright war now that the firm has announced only one of them will be allowed to make partner this year.

As in the classic battle of the sexes comedies, Payton and J. D. spend much of their time flinging sharp verbal zingers at one another. Many of those zingers take the form of gender-based insults:

     " 'Forty Women to Watch Under 40,'" J. D. emphasized. "Tell me, Payton—is there a reason your gender finds it necessary to be so separatist? Afraid of a little competition from the opposite sex, perhaps?"
    "If my gender hesitates to compete with yours, J. D., it's only because we're afraid to lower ourselves to your level," she replied sweetly. (11).

J.D. believes that white men are getting the short end of the stick in a "socially liberal, politically correct" society. "There is no glass ceiling anymore—these women choose to leave the workforce of their own volition" he gripes to a fellow (male) associate after hearing about the firm's plan to increase the number of female partners (20).  "The playing field isn't level," he goes on to assert, stating as a fact that "if a man and a woman are equally qualified for a position, the woman gets the job" (21). A proponent of the "reverse discrimination" theory, J.D. takes pride in his own "fairness": "I'm just saying that everyone should be judged solely on merit. No 'plus' factors for gender, race, national origin.... so that each person is given a a fair chance" (22). J.D. refuses see that his own background has already give him an edge in the purported meritocracy of the law firm.

J.D. also refuses to acknowledge the simmering attraction that underlies his gender-based attacks on Payton, a failing he shares with Payton herself. James' story thus allows the reader to know more, or to know better, than its main characters do. Payton continually reminds herself that she's "above such petty nonsense" as competing with J. D., while J.D. reassures himself, "Not that it was a competition between them" whenever he finds himself gloating over his latest Payton-related triumph (28). It's funny to see J.D. and Payton both act in ways that give the blatant lie to such self-justifications. But their blindness also serves a second purpose: to suggest to readers that if our protagonists are mistaken about their own feelings, they might also be mistaken about their gender-based assertions.

This certainly proves true of J.D., who must gradually come to see the validity of Payton's gender critique over the course of the novel in order to become a worthy romance hero. Payton's change comes not in the form of political consciousness-raising, but in a personal recognition that ideological soul mates do not necessarily make the best life-mates.

Practice Makes Perfect's feminist credentials would be impeccable, but for one disturbing factor: Payton is an expert in race and gender discrimination cases. But she is typically not on the side of women: she earns her hefty paychecks by defending large corporations against gender discrimination charges. She wins the one case James depicts in the novel, a case in which the woman suing the company that Payton represents is obviously misguided. But are all, or even most, such cases so obviously spurious? Or is this simply wish-fulfillment on the part of those whose, like Payton and her fellow corporate lawyers, build their fortunes defending big business?

Equal opportunity for women in the old boys' world of the law office is a goal feminism surely should embrace. But when that opportunity comes at the expense of other women, we might want to pause in our praise. Has James pulled a sly bait and switch, offering up gender equality in romance in exchange for readers' turning their own blind eye to larger, institutionally-based gender discrimination? The personal is political, but is the political no longer necessary in a world of personal gender equality?

What other romance novels can you think of that feature a politically-inflected battle of the sexes storyline? And how do the endings of those novels reinforce, or undermine, feminist goals?


Photo/illustration credits:
• Much Ado About Nothing: Fandango 
• Old Boys' Network: Cafe Press
• Battle of the Sexes Tug of War: Brittany Jones blog
• Wal-Mart cartoon: Walt Hangelsman, Newsday via Ottinger Firm

Next time on RNFF

RNFF Pet Peeve #2: Romance novels that diss feminism