You know what I would like to see on my television? Smart, powerful women who own their own damn selves. Smart, powerful women who own their own damn selves and aren’t made the butt of jokes for doing it (Ugly Betty, I’m looking at you). Unlike the caricatures on the offensive, painful mess that is Cashmere Mafia, the smart, powerful women I know like themselves enough that they wouldn’t make excuses for some asshat who cheats on them by whimpering about how hard it must be to live with a smart, powerful woman. And they really, really wouldn’t preface those excuses by saying they’re not making excuses for men who are so useless they can’t stand to live with a smart, powerful woman (in fairness, that’s not the laziest part of the writing. The laziest part is a meet-cute where two people bonk heads while trying to pick something up off the floor. Aren’t you clever!).
As I noted when the ghastly The Devil Wears Prada came out, I am sick nigh unto death of pop culture that teaches us that ambitious women must be punished–and, specifically, that they must be punished by men who are right to be affronted by female ambition. To any smart, powerful woman looking to own her own damn self, I say to you now: if Some Guy is uncomfortable with how much money you make or how fast you’ve moved up in the company or how well you juggle your kids or how sharp people think you are? Then he’s not good enough for you. There are worse things than being alone, and one of those worse things is being with someone who doesn’t want you to own your own bad self. The fact that Miranda Otto and Lucy Liu try to tell you otherwise while having the shiniest hair and the highest heels in the world doesn’t make them right–it just makes them empty. Don’t listen to them, don’t internalize them, and, most important, don’t watch their unbelievably stupid TV show. Own. Your. Damn. Self.
Or, as Tracy Jordan would put it more succinctly, “Stop eating people’s old french fries, Cashmere Mafia women. Have some self-respect. Don’t you know you can fly?”