Dear Lena Dunham,
Before I get to the point, I have to say that you’re not someone I follow intently. I had subscribed to your Lenny Letters at one point because of J. Law’s interview but after that lost interest. I hadn’t seen any episodes of Girls until last month and somehow made it to season 3 before I realized that while relatable, I found that I genuinely didn’t care about any of the characters. So I stopped.
So, I’d like to apologize that I don’t follow your words off camera enough to know if you were just taking a page out of Hannah’s narcissistic book– Or if you and your character are one in the same, and you happen to be so inherently aware and honest about your narcissism, that you’re able to really nail your own character.
So this Odell Beckham Jr. thing. I have to say after reading what you wrote about him last night, I was so pissed off that I began to type this letter in a note on my phone at 3:30am. I became even more pissed off knowing I’d need to publish this today when my plate is already insanely full. I’m mad that you’ve managed to make me so mad that I had to make you a priority.
You don’t know Odell. He doesn’t know you. And while yes, I get that you are wildly insecure– to decide his thoughts for him. To attribute his lack of interest in engaging in conversation with you, to not being someone– oh sorry, someTHING– he wants to fuck. To reduce a man and his thoughts to his sexuality alone. “Do I want to fuck it?”
Did you stop to think that maybe he has no clue who Lena Dunham is? Maybe he looked up at you, thought you looked familiar, couldn’t remember from where and didn’t want to embarrass himself? Maybe he’s not used to going to elaborate galas and whatnot, since I don’t know– he’s a football player and not an actor? Did YOU try and start a conversation with him or were you waiting for him to do it? Sure, it would be a dick move if you were like, “Hi, I’m Lena!” And he stared blankly at you and then went back to his phone, but that still has nothing to do with whether or not he finds you “fuckable.”
What the fuck, Lena?? If you think you look like a marshmallow, child or dog– you clearly aren’t comfortable with how you feel in your own skin. If you have to shove words into another person’s thoughts and when called out on it, say it’s your “sense of humor” and claim it wasn’t about him but rather about your insecurities– don’t you think perhaps you need to work on those insecurities? As a woman, as a feminist, don’t you think these are responsibilities you should work out before you lambaste another human being? If you’re going to be an “averaged bodied woman” as you put it, should you not at least be confident in that?
I don’t consider myself to look like a marshmallow, a child or a dog. If an attractive man doesn’t make conversation with me, I don’t assume those things. I don’t assume that he deemed me unfuckworthy with a glance. In fact, I don’t assume it has anything to do with me at all.
Here’s the thing Lena, there are women day in and day out that are fighting against street harassment. There are women who are doing nothing more than walking down the street who get cat called, hit on and even followed. There are women who are sick of being told that they should take it as a compliment. As women, we are tired of feeling like we owe men our appreciation for unwanted advances. Don’t you think we should give men the same respect we’re wanting? What you are doing here is serving up on a platter the notion feminists want it both ways. You make this fight unwinnable. You make a mockery of women who are really working for what feminism is actually about– equality.
As women, as feminists, are we incapable of being on the same freaking page here? Should we all just toss the keys back to the patriarchy back and say, “Lock us up, we clearly can’t get our shit together!”
Just because you are a celebrity with enough reach to make headlines does not mean you speak for all women. This is an abuse of your voice. YOU Lena Dunham are not feminism. Your kind of feminism is embarrassing.
Good luck getting out of this one,