Charlotte: The women's movement is supposed to be about choice and if I choose to quit my job, that is my choice.
Miranda: The women's movement? Jesus Christ, I haven't even had coffee yet.

The Trouble with Charlotte

From the beginning of the series, Charlotte York is portrayed as the most innocent of the four women on Sex and the City—the most innocent, the most conservative, and the most easily embarrassed by graphic sex talk. She is the only one who, throughout the show, expresses a serious (in her case, very serious) desire to marry and have children. Charlotte follows dating "rules" such as restricting intimacy on a first date so that she will be viewed as marriage material. Every man she meets is sized up as a potential husband. Dating is regarded as a competitive sport and Charlotte plays to win. In "The Chicken Dance" (episode 19), in her role as a bridesmaid she is paired up with an eligible groomsman. Before the wedding cake is cut she imagines their future as husband and wife, asking him loaded questions like how many children he wants to have. In another episode, "Where There's Smoke" (episode 31), Charlotte decides to start spending time with her married rather than single friends in the hopes they will introduce her to marriageable men. So eager to wed is Charlotte that one month after meeting a man who she feels is an appropriate match, she blurts out a proposal, going against her own rules and expectations for how such a union should begin. While Carrie and Miranda often complain about their relationships or lack thereof, neither they nor the brash Samantha fantasize about marriage or motherhood and a traditional feminine life the way Charlotte does. Traditional feminine expectations fall heavily on Charlotte's shoulders as the other three women are mostly portrayed as happily inept at or uninterested in cooking, cleaning, and other homemaking tasks. For Charlotte, fulfilling traditional roles is a fantasy to be realized with elegance.

After getting married (then separated, and then reunited with her husband), Charlotte decides it is time to quit her job. This plays out in season 4, in "Time and Punishment" (episode 55). As a successful curator of an art gallery, she is giving up a career she loves and clearly feels ambivalent about doing so. When Charlotte reveals her intentions to her friends they appear stunned and exchange only slightly veiled disapproving looks as Charlotte explains why she wants to stay home. When she says that there are more meaningful things she could do with her life, Miranda presses for details. Charlotte states:

Well, soon I'll be pregnant and that'll be huge. Plus I'm redecorating the apartment and I always wanted to take one of those Indian cooking classes. And sometimes I'll walk by one of those Color Me Mine pottery places and I'll see a woman having just a lovely afternoon glazing a bowl. That'd be a nice change.

Her friends stare at her, wide-eyed in shock that Charlotte would give up her job in order to do things they view as less meaningful, even trivial. After a silence, and seemingly as a means of justifying her decision, Charlotte adds, "And I wanted to volunteer at Trey's hospital and raise money for the new pediatric AIDS wing."

In this exchange and for the remainder of the scene, Charlotte's decision to enter a life of domesticity—historically the domain and duty of women—is perceived negatively by the other women. The very idea that Charlotte is willing to give up her career is inconceivable to her friends. By making Charlotte the minority voice in this situation, the writers and producers of Sex and the City have done something interesting and novel. They allow the traditional feminine voice to be rejected rather than rewarded, while the voices of the career-focused workers-not-wives dominate. Throughout the history of television, there have been few independent women characters with both masculine and feminine characteristics, without such traits being the subject of humor or ridicule. Most strong women characters, particularly those who have masculine traits such as aggression, a work-focused identity, or aversions to marriage, children, or both, have either been connected to a man (and thus feminized as wives, mothers, or daughters) or balanced by feminine characters who perform gender appropriately. For example, in Bonnie Dow's analysis of the TV show Murphy Brown, she notes how Murphy's hyperfeminine counterpart, Corky Sherwood, often teaches Murphy how a woman should act. When Murphy demonstrates ineptitude at cooking or parenting, Corky is there to help. In allowing Murphy to be disciplined by Corky, and constructing Corky's way of doing things (the feminine way) as the right way, Murphy's identity and possibility as a feminist character is implicitly chastised and limited.

In "Time and Punishment," the reverse scenario plays out. Charlotte's aspirations toward domesticity are clearly viewed as the "wrong" way of doing things or the wrong goals, and Charlotte herself is well aware of this. She becomes increasingly defensive throughout the episode as she justifies her decision to stop working and even lies in order to make her choice seem less frivolous. When she interviews women to replace her, a candidate asks how Charlotte can give up such a great job. Initially, Charlotte replies, "Well, I'm married and we're planning on a baby." The interviewee stares at her blankly, seemingly perplexed. Charlotte adds her untrue justification, "Also, I'm on the board of the Lenox Hill pediatric AIDS foundation." Then the woman nods and smiles, looking impressed. In this incident, as when she told her friends, Charlotte knows that if she mentions a desire to do something beyond being a wife and future mother, in this case volunteer work for an important social cause, then she will not be judged as negatively for quitting her job. In this sense, Charlotte is cognizant that choosing to stay at home is not viewed positively for upper-middle-class women.

Yet, at the same time, Charlotte seems to be aware of the importance of the domestic role. In twenty-first-century American society, women, like their mothers and grandmothers were, are socialized and encouraged to view marriage and child rearing as goals they should want to achieve. Thus, Charlotte's ambivalence toward her decision is indicative of the conflicting demands modern women face. As psychology professor and scholar on the subject of motherhood Michele Hoffnung writes, "There are two sets of expectations for women. There are those made possible by industrialization—individuality, successful accomplishment, equality. Then there are those born of the patriarchal tradition—the public domain belongs to men, wives and their services belong to their husbands, and family life is the responsibility of women" (Hoffnung 277–91). Women have been taught that they should be successful in both of these domains, which is extremely difficult because the demands of one conflict with the other. Women often have to choose, as Charlotte does, between career and family—and the writers of Sex and the City suggest that it is OK, and maybe even preferable, for women to choose or even prefer work. Of course, most women do not have the choice to choose either one or the other—most do not have the limitless financial resources that Charlotte and the other women seem to have. Most women must work in order to support themselves and/or their family, yet their dilemma is similar to the one Charlotte faces: Many sacrifice "careers" for "jobs" with schedules that are compatible with meeting a family's needs. And even for those with careers, the reality of trying to successfully balance work and family often results in frustration, anger, and resentment given the impossibility of "having it all" (Clemetson et al.).

The Trouble with Liberal Feminism

Since the Home Box Office (HBO) is less constrained by a push for network-TV-like ratings and, given that it generates revenue from its viewers and is thus not dependent on advertising dollars, its programs' producers can instead focus on crafting intricate story lines that allow for the complexity of characters. HBO may be less concerned about falling within the comfortable range of emotions or, in this case, gender displays that are standard on mainstream series. By placing work at the center of Carrie, Samantha, and Miranda's lives and identities, rather than as something to be abandoned at marriage, Sex and the City allows for a more "realistic" or in-depth story to be told. In fact, Charlotte's own insecurities about her decision and her concerns regarding how she would be judged also communicate the idea that work is and should be important to women. Her defensiveness, which comes through forcefully in a subsequent phone conversation with Miranda, implies that she realizes that she might have regrets about not working and that she has internalized the message that she should work. When, for example, she accuses Miranda of judging her and exclaims, "You think I'm one of those women . . . One of those women we hate who just works until she gets married!" Charlotte reveals her own view that women should be independent, which demonstrates that she herself is conflicted. This statement has feminist undertones (although the divisiveness among women it suggests is decidedly not feminist), since it implies that women who change their lives, or who are primarily oriented to attracting a husband, sacrifice themselves and comprise their identities.

When she demands that Miranda support her decision, Charlotte claims that, given the women's movement, she has the right to choose whether or not she should stay home. She shouts into the phone repeatedly, "I choose my choice!" as if to say her decision is OK because it is supported by feminism. When Charlotte says these words, when she decides to stop working, she calls on a principle associated with liberal feminism—that every woman has the right to decide for herself what is best. This both oversimplifies and misinterprets liberal feminist goals, while still promoting the critical sentiment that women are diverse, and that one woman's decision of what to do with her body or her life should be in her hands, in spite of what her friends, family, or society at large may say. However, it also articulates some of the problems associated with liberal feminism as a perspective and the consequent misappropriation and misapplication of this perspective by women and various social institutions.

Liberal feminism is based on the idea that differences between women and men cannot be explained by biology and thus differential treatment is unjust. Liberal feminists have argued that people should be regarded as individuals, rather than as men or women, and thus should be able to make decisions based on what is best for the individual. In this episode of Sex and the City, when Charlotte refers to the women's movement, she seems to be referring to the idea that women have been "liberated" or freed from the constraints of patriarchy and are able to work and attain success at levels similar to those attained by men. Thus, she has the right to decide for herself what will make her happy and satisfied as an individual. If she chooses not to work, then she is not succumbing to traditional feminine expectations; rather, she is doing what she sees as right for her and thus she should not be judged for this. Of course, this is problematic on several levels. First, only certain women have been "liberated' in this sense and, as feminists critical of liberal feminism would argue, few women have the ability to make this choice. For example, bell hooks attributes the divisions within early second-wave feminism to the fact that women from different racial and class groups have different interests. She argues that many poor or working class women would have relished the opportunity to stay at home with their children, but this was not an economically viable choice. This whole debate about choice must be placed in the context of oppression; Charlotte's choice is predicated on other women's lack of choices. Furthermore, Charlotte mentions that "Trey suggested" she stay at home, indicating that the idea to stop working is not hers alone. Her wealthy doctor husband presented the option to her as a gift of sorts, as if to say, "I give you permission to stay home," and Charlotte fails to acknowledge that her choice is made possible only by her subsequent economic dependence on her husband.

Similarly, as Rosemarie Tong articulates in her classic text Feminist Thought, liberal feminists tend to "overemphasize the importance of individual freedom over that of the common good" by detailing a white upper/middle-class feminism that is not accessible to all (Tong 11–38). As Alison Jaggar (among others) has critiqued, liberation for the individual does little for liberation of the oppressed or for the understanding of the diversity of oppressions faced by women from different race and class positions. Thus, liberal feminism can be faulted for its assertion that if women and men are viewed as equals and given equal opportunities, then any woman or man can succeed, rather than critiquing the structure of society, calling attention to its institutions as racist and classist.

Furthermore, Charlotte's use of the women's movement as support for her decision co-opts feminist ideas in order to suit her purposes, and liberal feminism's simplistic premise unfortunately lends itself well to such appropriation. When Charlotte says, "the woman's movement is about choice" she implies that any choice—whether it be motherhood, career, or taking a cooking class—should be OK because she claims to be making the decision herself. This is a tactic that has been used by the media and advertisers in order to manipulate women into buying products or ideas about self-improvement under the guise that they deserve to be self-indulgent, that women have put themselves second or last for too long. As Susan Douglas argues, industries ranging from beauty (L'Oreal's "I'm worth it") to tobacco (Virginia Slims' "You've come a long way, baby") have traded on feminist ideas of "women's rights" to indulge, to take "pleasure" in themselves and to pursue their interests, to do what men can do. Douglas argues, "Women's liberation metamorphosed into female narcissism unchained as political concepts and goals like liberation and equality were collapsed into distinctly personal, private desires. Women's liberation became equated with women's ability to do whatever they wanted for themselves, whenever they wanted, no matter what the expense" (Douglas 243–94). Not only have advertisers used feminist themes to sell products by encouraging narcissism, but as Arlie Hochschild demonstrates, other media have done so as well. In her words, the advice/self-help genre of books "abducted" feminism, particularly the ideas associated with liberal feminism, by encouraging women to think more about themselves and their needs, in the same way that men supposedly have (Hochschild 1–24). These books assume a selfless woman who needs to learn to put herself first in relationships. The multibillion dollar weight-loss industry has capitalized on this as well. Encouraging women to join weight-loss groups or purchase expensive dietary supplements or prepackaged meals under the artifice that they should do this for themselves, rather than be critical of impossible societal standards of beauty and body image, is also a co-optation of feminism (Stinson). All of these strategies result in women's participation in their own oppression, under the clever guise of women's liberation.

Charlotte calls on these same principles in her justification of her decision. If she wants to spend a day painting pottery, then she should because she deserves it and it is her right as a woman to decide what is best for Charlotte. Her misappropriation of feminism is not taken lightly or manipulated by the writers and producers of Sex and the City as other media have done. Rather, Charlotte's construction and employment of her own breed of feminism is depicted as one-dimensional, inappropriate, and certainly not feminist. By having the other characters question Charlotte's decision, we see her disciplined for her dependence and judged for her choice; it is apparent that even Charlotte herself is aware of the flimsy nature of her argument.

The "F Word"

Given this portrayal, is Sex and the City feminist? While HBO should be lauded for presenting women characters who are more complex, over the age of 30, career-oriented, and not solely wives or mothers, there are some problematic representations that should be addressed. First, feminism seems to be a dirty word. Even though HBO is no stranger to "strong" language, this one appears to be on the "do not use" list. While Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and sometimes Charlotte, act in ways that are decidedly feminist (e.g., Miranda's resistance to the demands of work and motherhood or Samantha's refusal to let her sexual experiences be viewed differently from men's), rarely, if ever, are the women or their actions labeled as feminist. When a show avoids using the word feminist—seemingly because of its still-stigmatized connotations in the age of postfeminism—it is difficult to interpret the show as such. In the episode discussed here, "Time and Punishment," Charlotte employs liberal feminism to defend her decision without using the "f-word." Sex and the City fails to escape the cultural trap of ambivalence toward women, their identities, and feminism. In this sense, Sex and the City is a reflection of the culture—and may in fact be more realistic than other shows that firmly locate women as either feminine or feminist (and thus masculine). Without being explicitly feminist, Sex and the City still promotes feminist themes and provides four independent women characters space to be like real women—fallible, complicated, good, bad, and diverse. Furthermore, by having only one Charlotte, only one of the four main characters who is interested and focused on marriage and motherhood, and by giving her a long, hard road to travel in her journey to realize those ambitions, Sex and the City privileges women's independence rather than dependence on men—something that has rarely been seen on network television.

Works Cited

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Douglas, Susan. Where the Girls Are: Growing Up Female with the Mass Media. New York: Times Books, 1994.

Dow, Bonnie J. Prime-time feminism: Television, media culture, and the women's movement since 1970. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1996.

Hochschild, Arlie. "The Commercial Spirit of Intimate Life and the Abduction of Feminism: Signs from Women's Advice Books." Theory, Culture, and Society 11 (1994): 1–24.

Hoffnung, Michele. "The Motherhood Mystique." In Shifting the Center: Understanding Contemporary Families, edited by Susan J. Ferguson, 277–91. Mountain View, CA: Mayfield, 1998.

hooks, bell. Where We Stand: Class Matters. New York: Routledge, 2000.

Jaggar, Alison M. Feminist Politics and Human Nature. Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Allanheld, 1983.

Sex and the City. Created by Darren Star. HBO. 1998–2004.

Stinson, Kandi. Women and Dieting Culture: Inside a Commercial Weight Loss Group. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2001.

Tong, Rosemarie. Feminist Thought: A Comprehensive Introduction. Boulder, CO: Westview, 1989.