FILMS from AFAR

This interview was originally published by the Alliance of Women Film Journalists . Tangier-born writer-actor-director Maryam Touzani says that with her new film Calle Málaga , she wanted to “celebrate the beauty of aging and the freedom that can come with aging.” The story turns on a 70-something woman, played by Spanish veteran Carmen Maura, who insists on remaining in her home in Tangier—against all odds. In doing so, she remakes her life, finds new love and reinforces her connections with her Moroccan roots, the place where she was born and raised as part of a Spanish immigrant community. The subject was personal for Touzani, whose own blended Moroccan-Spanish family gave inspiration to Calle Málaga . I really wanted to pay tribute to the Spanish community that a lot of people don't know about,” she says. “I wanted to explore this theme of attachment, of belonging. What does it really mean to belong? What makes up who we are—the spaces, the people, our houses, our street.” Touzani has directed three feature films, and all three have been selected to represent Morocco at the Oscars—despite dealing with difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects in Moroccan society, like homosexuality ( The Blue Caftan ) and unwanted pregnancy out of wedlock ( Adam ). Her first two features premiered at Cannes, while Calle Málaga won the Audience Award at Venice last September. “I've always been attracted by characters that are made invisible, or somehow put aside or erased,” she notes. Her films feature women, like Maura's María Angeles in Calle Málaga , who take control of their own lives and destinies, often outside of society’s accepted boundaries. “The place of women in public… is not necessarily the same power that the women will have in houses,” Touzani admits. She conveys this duality in her frequent use of interior settings and chiaroscuro lighting, contrasting golden-lit interiors off the bright Mediterranean light outside. Now, Calle Málaga is the opening film at the Málaga Film Festival, running in the Spanish Mediterranean city from March 6 to 15. AWFJ sat down with Touzani in Madrid before opening night to talk about the film, her exceptional career and whether movies have the power to change society. Here is that conversation, edited for length and clarity. All of your films have been selected to represent Morocco at the Oscars. Does that surprise you, considering your films deal with difficult subjects? It’s not something that has anything to do with the filmmaker themselves. It’s the trajectory of the film. When you have a film that opens at an important festival and there is something positive happening around it, that makes it easier for the film to get selected to represent its country… It’s an independent committee that watches the films… But once you have a start in an important festival and there is good press around the film, it’s always helpful. You've taken your films to festivals all over the world. Do reactions differ in different countries? What I've noticed and what is very heartwarming is that, for instance talking about Calle Málag a, the audience response was warm in the same manner in countries that were very different and cultures that were very different. And that's heartwarming, especially with a film like this that's even more personal than the rest… Globally, what I felt is that at the end of the day, we are brought together by the same emotions, and reactions generally are quite similar. I think that when there is a human connection with a film, at the end of the day, that brings us together wherever we are from. One of the things that I wrote about this story is that it's a cliche that older women become kind of invisible when they age, and I thought the character of María used that invisibility as an asset. Can you talk a little bit about what it means to be a woman in Moroccan society, and if that invisibility is useful in some ways? I think that being a woman in Moroccan society is not very different from being a woman in any other society, honestly, when you bring it down to the core. I think there's something very common everywhere. But it's true that I've always been attracted by characters that are made invisible, or somehow put aside or erased. And it's true that here I also wanted to show and celebrate these aging bodies. His, and especially hers, because I think that women's bodies in cinema are really cast aside. We're expected to age in a certain manner, and the reality is not that. So, it’s just not shown. And I really wanted to show this woman celebrating her body. She’s the one that invites him into her life, undresses him, undresses herself. And it's really undressing herself physically, but it's also saying: this is who I am. I stand tall. I'm proud of my aging body. I'm proud of all these marks that the years have left on me. And my body is beautiful and I'm beautiful the way I am, and I'm proud to show it. I want him to look at me, but I want to show myself the way I am. To just be proud of that and not have to hide and not have to be what somebody else expects, and just really celebrate the beauty of aging and the freedom that can come with aging as well. because I think that aging can be something very liberating. Whereas in our societies, we put older people into boxes of how we're supposed to act, what we're supposed to be. All these expectations that are thrown upon us and that are just like shackles, right? And I really want María to break all these shackles and break free and say, no, I'm a woman. I'm almost 80. I choose to show my body. I choose to age the way I want to age. I want to have that freedom. Carmen Maura has actually said that in a lot of interviews, that she's ‘free’ now. She said if you had asked her five or 10 years ago to take her clothes off, she wouldn't have. Yeah, and I think that's a beautiful thing as well with aging. It’s the power that can come with it. It's the strength and the beauty that can come with it. I think the beauty in aging, we don't see that in our societies. For me, that was also why I wanted to film these skins up close, to show these wrinkles. Because for me, they're these beautiful marks that life has left upon us, a life that we've had the privilege to live. And not everybody has that privilege of growing old. As I grow older, and as I lose people that have maybe not reached that age, I realize how precious it is. Something that I see across your films, even your short films, is that you shoot a lot of interiors, and it feels like women kind of dominate those spaces. You often have women talking to each other from their balconies in your films. What you're saying is very interesting because it's true that we are, at the end of the day, in a very matriarchal society and women do dominate interiors. There's a lot of respect for mothers, for grandmothers. What a mother has to say in Moroccan society is extremely, extremely important… It’s interesting regarding the place of women in public, which is not necessarily the same power that the women will have in houses. Touzani went on to talk about her Spanish-Moroccan family, growing up in a “double culture” and speaking Spanish at home with her mother and grandmother. Is some of that in the character of María? It definitely is because my grandmother was a very rebellious woman with a lot of personality, a lot of character and quite a lot of humor. And this long white hair as well—she used to put up in a bun, but it was really long. I remember as a child—she passed when I was 12—I was very, very close to her. I had my bedroom, but I would sleep in her bedroom, sometimes even in her bed, cuddled to her. I loved her so much, but I remember I was just fascinated by her. I remember being fascinated by her skin, by her wrinkles… I just loved observing her. And her energy—she passed at 82, but she had so much energy. I never saw her take a nap ever in her life until the last month where she got sick… She had this energy, like María Angeles in the film, and I think that did really inspire me also for the writing of this character. So you were very familiar with the Spanish immigrant community in Tangier? I was very familiar with it because of course my grandmother had a lot of friends from this community… They were all very close. And in Calle Málaga, what was interesting as well… there was this mixture of Jewish, Christians, Muslims and they would exchange recipes, be together on the holidays, at feasts, and there was this kind of living together that was very, very peaceful. It was beautiful, and I always heard about this. That's why the film is called Calle Málaga [though it’s actually filmed on a different street]—I really wanted to pay tribute to the Spanish community that a lot of people don't know about… Some of her [my grandmother’s] friends whose kids had left—they were older, and they decided not to leave and wanted to stay in Tangier. I saw their attachment, this visceral attachment to their city. And as a child, as a young woman, it's something that really hit a chord inside me. I really was very sensitive to what made this attachment so strong. I think that's why I wanted to explore this theme of attachment, of belonging. What does it really mean to belong? What makes up who we are—the spaces, the people, our houses, our street. And it's also because I was so close to the Spanish community and I saw the Spanish community die off little by little—for the majority, because their children left, grandchildren are born abroad, etc.—and then this bond disappears… It was really also a tribute to these people. I think memory is very important… Through the film, I also wanted to keep these people alive somehow, because they are people that were there, that existed, that had feelings that were rooted in this land. Touzani spoke about the film being a way for her to maintain a connection with her mother, who passed away suddenly at the age of 72. “I really needed to feel that she was close to me. It was something soothing about the language and also the things that you see in the film,” like certain cultural aspects, foods María cooks, etc. They “represented home and going back home to Tangier without my mom.” Calle Málaga was her first feature film shot in Tangier and in Spanish. Your other two films were not filmed in Tangier, right? I think that I unconsciously wrote the film in Tangier because I knew it was the only way for me to force myself to go back there and face her [my mother’s] absence and face these beautiful memories, but without her, you know? And try to find peace and try to make sense and continue loving the city. So, it was very hard. Shooting was very hard because every street corner was a memory. It sounds cathartic. Yeah. What I'm living is still part of this whole process. When I go to Málaga in a few days, my Spanish family is going to be there and they're going to discover the film, and that's also part of it. So that’s why it was [filmed] in Spanish. And it was very interesting, very soothing for me to find myself on set surrounded by Spanish, because a big part of my team was Spanish and of course the dialogues were in Spanish. Just to be there and to hear Spanish around me was something that felt comforting. Do you ever face backlash in Morocco for the topics that you have chosen to make movies about? Have I ever? Yes, but from individuals that don't agree or that maybe don’t accept… For instance, in The Blue Caftan , if I did come across these kinds of reactions, which I did, it really made me realize even more how important and essential it was that this film exists in Morocco and that it be screened. It was opened in theaters, and this was the first time ever that a film that talks openly about homosexuality was screened in theaters… I think it means that there is a desire for an opening of dialogue, which is really what I want to do as well with the film. It's just being able to open a conversation, to be able to create a debate, to contribute in some way to making things advance. So, any backlash that I could have received, I never see it in a negative way. I always see it in a positive way because I always think that if there is some kind of backlash, it means that there is a necessity as well. Do you think film has the power to change society? Oh, I definitely think so. Otherwise, I wouldn't be making films. It's true! I think that it has a power to contribute, at least, to a significant change, because I think cinema is something that is accessible to everybody. It’s something that can reach you easily. And it gives you access, through your emotions, to a reality that is not necessarily yours, that you don't necessarily know, that you think maybe you don't agree with, but then you plunge into the life of a character for an hour and a half or two hours or whatever it may be, and you're in a completely different reality and your emotions take over. It's not your intellect. It's not your preconceptions, it's not all these barriers that you've necessarily created, and it can break through, in a manner, and… create a dialogue between your heart and your mind. And that can help change your vision. I've had a lot of people come up to me, for instance, after The Blue Caftan , and tell me things that were extremely touching about their preconceived ideas, about all they thought they never wanted or they were completely closed to, and how they saw things differently now. And for me, these are the biggest rewards… I think that cinema does have a way to contribute to changing things. And if you change just one person's perception, and then just one other person, and then one other person, at the end of the day, it can make a difference.   Images courtesy of Strand Releasing and Málaga Film Festival.

Costa Rican director Antonella Sudasassi spent two and a half years talking with older women for her film  Memories of a Burning Body (Memorias de un Cuerpo que Arde) , Costa Rica’s submission for the International Oscar. “In the beginning, I was looking for a specific kind of woman,” she says. “I was looking for someone more traditional, who got married, had kids, always lived with her husband and eventually died or divorced or whatever.” “I also looked for someone who was more open about her sexuality,” she adds, admitting that she thought her initial “idea of talking about sexuality and trying to understand how women of that age live their sexuality” might be funny and full of “juicy details.”  Sudasassi initiated the project out of a longing to have had these conversations with her own grandmothers before they died or lost their memories.  But through the long conversations with the women, which took place during the COVID shut down, Sudasassi says she “realized that it was about something else. It was about identity. It was about understanding themselves as women.” “And quite honestly, when I started talking to them, I realized that they had never talked about this with absolutely anybody, not even their mothers, daughters, sisters or granddaughters. They’d never talked about this, and they had such a need to talk about it. It felt a bit urgent for them to talk about it.”   Indeed, the women interviewed reveal very personal information. There are eight voices in the film in total, though only one woman is seen on screen (and younger versions of her), and she is an actress embodying the group of interviewees. Sudasassi says she decided to “intertwine” their voices and stories and wrap them into one “because I felt like there was such a common experience, even if the context was different.” The result is a fascinating piece of documentary work (that some are calling fiction because of the dramatized reenactments of the women’s words). In an interview with AWFJ, Sudasassi explains her process. Read the interview on AWFJ.org at this link . Read my review of the film here.

As a woman in one of the 22 short films in Palestine’s International Oscar entry, From Ground Zero , says, the loved ones lost in the ongoing war in Gaza are at risk of becoming “just numbers.” This film aims to resist that happening. But it also aims to go beyond stories of human suffering, according to producer Rashid Masharawi, who conceived of, organized and financed the anthology. On the one hand, he notes, the film intends to “document what’s going on.” On the other hand, he says, “I want this film to be shown internationally. It’s about life, it’s about love, it’s about hope. It’s about resistance. It’s not trying to show complaining all the time.” Masharawi is an award-winning, Gaza-born filmmaker ( Curfew , Haifa and many more) responsible for launching the Cinema Production and Distribution Center in Ramallah, which offers training and workshops for aspiring filmmakers as well as a mobile cinema and a children’s film festival. The film doesn’t focus on “political discussions or debates.” Instead, “It has to do with our life, with our culture, with our history. It has to do with people who want to have all these dreams – to make stand-up comedy, to paint, to dance, to sing. It’s about life.” There is also a heavy presence of women creatives in this collection, something that “was not easy,” Masharawi notes, “because women are having a difficult life during this war. They are more responsible for lives and family, kids, food, for many things, than men are. Besides, they live in tents and they have no privacy.” Getting them to take time to make a film was tough, but he says “it was very important for me to have maximum women.” I spoke with Masharawi by Zoom from France about the inspiration and logistics behind this collection. From Ground Zero had its North American premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival. Read the full interview here on the Alliance of Women Film Journalists page. Read my review of From Ground Zero here.

“Being a woman is beautiful,” says one of the elderly narrators of Costa Rica’s entry for the International Oscar, Memories of a Burning Body . “But there’s also an ugly side to it: you’re always vulnerable.” Judging by this year’s leading contenders for the International Oscar, the feeling is global. Countries around the world submitted women-centered stories for the non-English-language Oscar category this year, with female protagonists finding themselves in disadvantaged situations but also often discovering their own strength against all manner of obstacles. Some of these films made the shortlist for the award, announced Tuesday, Dec. 17, such as Brazil’s I’m Still Here , France’s Emilia Pérez , Germany’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig , Palestine’s From Ground Zero and the UK’s Santosh . Many did not, including Memories of a Burning Body . Notably, only three of the 15 shortlisted films were directed by women – four if you count the compilation film From Ground Zero , which includes seven female-directed short films out of 22 total. The shortlist is also dominated by European entries, though in three cases the films are set outside Europe ( The Seed of the Sacred Fig , Santosh and Emilia Perez ). Read the full article and see the shortlist at AWFJ.org Links to my reviews: Emilia Pérez , The Seed of the Sacred Fig, From Gound Zero , Santosh , Kneecap Images courtesy of film distributors.

The psychologist who popularized the concept of Emotinonal Intelligence talks about leadership styles. Originally published in SUCCESS+

After becoming one of the first countries in Europe to draft a law concerning the use of AI, Spanish filmmakers are experimenting, with caution: "We need to embrace it, but it cannot replace art." In March, Spain ’s government became one of the first countries in Europe to approve a draft law concerning AI, almost a year to the date after formal approval of the landmark European Artificial Intelligence Act provided a common legal framework for the development, commercialization and use of AI systems across Europe. AI is one of the most divisive issues in the entertainment industry today. A week after Spain’s draft law was unveiled, 400 Hollywood creatives signed a letter of concern about copyright protections for the arts and entertainment sector, pushing back against OpenAI and Google’s appeals to the U.S. government to allow their AI models to train on copyrighted works.  Meanwhile, James Cameron recently suggested filmmakers could save 50 percent on big-budget films by using AI, to which Netflix CEO Ted Sarandos replied he hoped AI could also make them “10 percent better.”  In a smaller industry like Spain’s, these are powerful arguments. “Technological advances are a welcome and important boost for an industry accustomed to fighting against giants, like high production budgets and excessive bureaucracy,” says Beatriz Pérez de Vargas, director of AI Alter Ego, the Invisible Intelligence , a three-chapter docuseries on AI for public broadcaster RTVE, which also won awards for its use of AI. Daniel H. Torrado, director of The Great Reset , which he bills as Spain’s, if not Europe’s, first entirely AI-generated feature, agrees. “All creators have a ton of projects in the closet, because many of them either can’t find funding or there are production issues to get them off the ground,” he says. His apocalyptic tech thriller — about an AI borne from the mind of a rogue hacker that threatens to destroy the world — “would have had unaffordable costs and production times” without AI, he says. “AI allowed us to simulate complex decisions early on and experiment without the budgetary risk that often paralyzes many independent creators.”  But, Torrado adds, “human oversight was constant. Every artistic, narrative andemotional decision went through my hands. AI was a powerful tool, not a substitute for the creator.” That’s a theme among those experimenting with AI right now. “We need to embrace it, but it cannot replace art,” says film and commercials director Paco Torres, who gives AI training sessions to private companies and government organizations around the world. “We cannot lose artists, the white paper, the creation from nothing, the emotions, the human interactions, the imperfection … We need to fail, to not be perfect — this is important because it’s how we get emotion.” Read the full story in The Hollywood Reporter

This article was originally published by Provoked Magazine In Amazon Prime’s The Idea of You , a 40-year-old single mom falls for a 24-year-old boy-band idol. And the internet loses its mind. She’s called a cougar, a stalker, the “sleaziest mom of the year.” He’s questioned about the relationship, while she’s shamed. The mom—played by Anne Hathaway—has to hide out until the hate subsides. The sequence points to a truth we all know: When women date younger men, people get weird. The man might be teased. The woman? She’s despised—at least in America. Older man, younger woman? That’s not news—it’s tradition. On screen, it’s standard casting. Off screen, it’s barely a headline. Cue the Double Standard But flip the ages, and now it’s a spectacle. Sure, real-life couples like Cher and Alexander Edwards, or Helena Bonham Carter and Rye Dag Holmboe, are shaking things up. But Madonna? Demi? They got mocked for trying. The cultural cynicism still clings. And yet—something is shifting. Streaming platforms are starting to flip the script on May-December romances. Maybe because they know who’s watching : older, often female audiences who’ve had enough of invisibility. Hollywood’s Age Gap Obsession Is Getting Older—but Not Wiser Take Lonely Planet , where 35-year-old Liam Hemsworth ditches his 28-year-old girlfriend to sleep with 58-year-old Laura Dern. Nicole Kidman—also 58—has recently been cast opposite men nearly half her age: 29-year-old Harris Dickinson ( Babygirl ), 37-year-old Zac Efron ( A Family Affair ), and 48-year-old Alexander Skarsgård ( Big Little Lies ). On paper, it looks like progress. But watch them closely, and something’s still off—more tired stereotypes than feminist reinterpretations. If these films really want to appeal to older women, the writers have some serious rethinking to do. The “cougar” trope has been prowling around Hollywood for decades, but it hasn’t evolved much. In The Graduate (1967), Anne Bancroft’s Mrs. Robinson seduced college grad Dustin Hoffman (only six years her junior in real life). Fast-forward to 2003, when Diane Lane found herself (and a younger man) in Under the Tuscan Sun , a global hit that arguably sparked the era of Cougar Town, MILF Manor , and other half-baked series. Back then, the “older woman” was in her 30s or 40s. Now, she’s in her 50s. The age is aging—but the storyline isn’t. Still Seeking Worth in Another’s Gaze Across all these roles, there’s a common thread: The woman’s self-worth is unlocked, not by wisdom or success, but by the interest of someone. Hathaway’s Solène is a gallery owner with a full life, but she’s still stinging from her divorce. In Babygirl , Kidman is the top female at her firm willing to risk it all for a dominating young intern. In A Family Affair and Lonely Planet , Kidman and Dern play successful writers validated by the attention of brawny but bland young bucks. These women aren’t just hot, they’re whole. But the scripts can’t seem to imagine female confidence without male approval. The takeaway? The worth of women is still tied to being desired, while age only seems to intensify that need. And it’s not just the straight girls. In HBO Max’s new Sex and the City update, And Just Like That…, 59-year-old Cynthia Nixon’s Miranda leaves her husband for a younger woman—Che (Sara Ramirez), giving up a prestigious career opportunity to follow the aspiring actor to Los Angeles. Superficially Feminist Middle-aged women on screen are finally taking their lives into their own hands, which might look like empowerment. But scratch the surface, and these “feminist” portrayals start to unravel. Take Nightbitch , where Amy Adams goes feral from the boredom of motherhood. Or The Substance , where Demi Moore literally sheds her skin to become younger. Feminist anthems ? Maybe. But more often than not, these stories rely on the same tired cliché of women losing their identities as they age. Youth, often in the form of a virile man, calls to her like a siren. Go back, it tells her, not forward. At her Golden Globes acceptance speech, Moore said: “In those moments, when we don’t think we’re smart enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or successful enough … know you will never be enough, but you can know the value of your worth if you just put down the measuring stick.” Inspiring, but also peculiar to hear from a 62-year-old actress who looks surgically engineered not to age. We Don’t Need Younger Men. We Need Better Writers. If these films want to empower women and truly appeal to them as viewers, they should show a less-than-perfect version of what a typical woman’s body and face look like at 40, 50, or 60. Hint: it’s not Hathaway, Kidman, or Moore. They should give them companions worthy of their characters and provide them with their equals—accomplished, kind-hearted, middle-aged partners, not still-maturing boys, abusive men, or selfish lovers. They should depict women feeling fulfilled at the height of their careers and personal lives, not over the hill, embarrassed to be seen, or ready to retire their hopes, talents, and dreams. It’s no coincidence that when And Just Like That… came out, a popular meme went around reminding people that the show’s glamorous cast were the same age as—wait for it—the then-cast of The Golden Girls . If middle age at the movies is no longer frumpy and grey, if 50 is indeed the new 30 on screen, then it’s high time for Hollywood to give these female characters the realistic confidence, distinction—and partners—they deserve. Images courtesy of Amazon Prime and Netflix

When there’s a sudden, unexpected gap in leadership, business operations can go haywire. Having a detailed succession plan is the blueprint to keep everything running smoothly.   Imagine a scenario where the leader of your organization has stepped down without advance notice and nobody is ready to take their place. Or a similar situation: a company finds itself at a loss when an owner who kept his leadership expertise entirely to himself winds up in the hospital unexpectedly for several months. These are just two examples of why succession planning is essential for any size organization. And they’re both examples that Jevon Powell, an organizational psy- chologist and president, owner and senior consultant of Seattle-based firm Scontrino Powell, has seen over his nearly 30 years in the business. In the first scenario, Powell says, “the organization was caught kind of flat-footed. They had to go to a temporary or an interim president. Now they’re being more thoughtful about what their next president needs to look like.” In the second scenario, he says, the leader’s “organization almost collapsed in his absence because nobody could take over his job.” “Effective, consistent succession planning helps prevent significant gaps in leadership, so if somebody leaves unexpectedly, we know what to do,” Powell says. Succession planning is the process of identifying key positions in an organization and nurturing a talent pipeline to potentially fill those positions as the need arises. As the scenarios above indicate, succession planning helps companies avoid gaps in business operations, loss of institutional knowledge or unnecessarily bumpy leadership transitions. It engages employees and adds value to organizations. “There’s a lot of research that highlights the importance of succession planning,” Powell says. “There is less consistent research around exactly which tools are going to be the most useful or the most effective. But certainly... one of management’s prime responsibilities is to ensure that they have a succession plan in place.” So how does an organization go about doing that? Read the full story in SUCCESS+ magazine

This article was originally published by Provoked Magazine . "Try to image a life where you are owned or controlled by the men in your life." This opening line of the documentary Dear Ms. pulls viewers into a past reality that, for many women, isn’t so hard to imagine today. Rights we thought were assured—control over our bodies, our money, our choices—once again feel as flimsy as a page torn from a magazine. While 64 percent of Americans see feminism as empowering, nearly half also call it polarizing, and a third consider it outdated, according to Pew Research . So how did we get from Ms. to this, and what does the turbulent, radical story of the magazine reveal about the unfinished work of feminism now? Inside the Ms. Documentary The story of Ms . is told through the eyes of three directors: Salima Koroma, Alice Gu, and Cecilia Aldarondo. They each bring a different lens to this history, starting from iconic covers of the magazine and delving into the complicated backstory of the fledgling feminist movement and its new mouthpiece. “We’re a movement, which means we’re messy, which means we disagree, which means we need to have hard discussions,” Aldarondo said. The documentary captures those tensions and contradictions, portraying Ms. not as a perfect movement, but as a living, evolving experiment in consciousness-raising. One that’s still unfolding in today’s fights over whose voices get heard, what feminism means, and who it’s for. ‘Feminism is a Dirty Word’ Koroma recalled telling Ms. co-founder Gloria Steinem that people her age see feminism “as a dirty word.” The legend’s response? “It’s always been a dirty word.” “I don’t know if we necessarily anticipated or even made this film expecting for women’s rights to be so threatened,” Aldarondo admitted. Gu agreed: “It’s easy to go through life like, I can drive a car, I have a bank account, my husband doesn’t beat me, and he wouldn’t even dream of it, thank God, I can wear pants. Look, the three of us … we’re all directors, we’re all women of color … We’ve come a long way, but … there’s still many, many areas where we have a long way to go.” The Origin Story Some of the other names originally considered for the magazine may sound more extreme today, like Sojourner, Lilith, Bimbo, or Bitch. But “Ms.” —combining Mrs. and Miss—represented a revolutionary new status of marital and professional independence for women in the 1970s. And men weren’t quite ready for it: ABC News Anchor Harry Reasoner gave the magazine six months. Then the debut edition sold out—and Reasoner had to apologize on air. There was a hungry market for topics like “De-sexing the English language” and “How to write your own marriage contract.” The inaugural edition splashed the shocker “We have had abortions” across two pages. More than 50 women signed their names—including many well-known public figures. Some hadn’t even had abortions. They signed in solidarity, risking legal action. Breaking Taboos “I think we were smarter than we thought we were,” Steinem says in the film of those early days. “A lot of these articles could still be relevant.” Decades before #MeToo, the magazine shone a light on dark realities, opening conversations on previously taboo topics. Ms. was the first women’s magazine to cover domestic violence in 1976 and the first national publication to feature sexual harassment on its cover in 1977. Why did it take a magazine to legitimize what women had long been screaming into the void? “It wasn’t something that was really talked about,” Gu noted, telling the story of a friend who recently admitted she’d been the victim of spousal abuse for a decade. “She’s a complete feminist. She’s very strong, she’s very vocal. So, it still happens. And a lot of these were secrets … I think it’s still hard to talk about.” Consciousness-Raising Group  Ms. stepped into the public sphere as a kind of “virtual consciousness-raising group,” Aldarondo underscored. “It was a way for women who were isolated, who didn’t have people around them to be able to go, ‘Hey, let’s go to this meeting.’ You have your magazine every month, and that’s your meeting.” Koroma pointed to the piles of letters Ms. received from women all over the country that affirmed this community—and gave the film its Dear Ms. title. “It’s a lot of women who are reading these things and saying, ‘Oh, that’s my experience too.’ And then they’re writing in and they’re connecting in that way as well. So I think also the letters were a place for this forum, this consciousness-raising group where women could express their experience.” All images courtesy of Getty Images and HBO.

Your partner has three friends: a college roommate he hasn’t called in a year, his brother, and you. Guess who’s carrying the weight? If this scenario sounds familiar, you might be “mankeeping.” When Mankeeping Gets a Name The term, coined last year by a pair of Stanford researchers , describes the social and emotional imbalances in many male-female relationships today. “I expected my kids to rely on me, but not so much my husband, for emotional support, encouragement, and counsel,” one woman told me. “If he acted on my suggestions, it would be easier. Instead, it’s draining.” And nobody’s talking about it. We’ve had the conversation about women’s unequal, unpaid, often underappreciated roles managing childcare and keeping house. But what about the emotional cost of our role in the “male friendship recession”? The Loneliness Epidemic It turns out otherwise potentially healthy heterosexual relationships are one more casualty of the loneliness epidemic , and women are bearing the burden. “It’s completely untenable and exhausting, and all the cracks in the relationship open that much wider and deeper,” said Marcus Berley , a licensed mental health counselor. The “male friendship recession” isn’t great for men either. They’re facing “increasing isolation, stunted emotional life, more bypassing of what their needs might be, and just defaulting into either what they think they’re supposed to do or into fantasy of how they’re going to solve it all,” Berley said. No Laughing Matter I admit I started this article a little tongue in cheek. The term “mankeeping” made me smirk, kind of like “manscaping” or “manosphere.” Then I began hearing from friends, and I realized just how serious, widespread—and, yes, exhausting—this phenomenon is. I sent an anonymous five-question survey to almost two dozen female friends, asking about their friend networks, social calendars, and the impact of relationship imbalances on these fronts—versus that of their male partners’. Email and text reactions came in fast and furious. They’d just been talking about this with a friend! They’re living this! Yes, they want to discuss it! Two women told me that the burdens of mankeeping had led, at least in part, to their divorces. Continue article here ---> https://provokedmagazine.com/mankeeping-is-real-and-women-are-exhausted/ Photo by Tim Mossholder: https://www.pexels.com/photo/male-and-female-signage-on-wall-1722196/

Published September 2025

Published November 2025