This post was submitted by Jean

Inequality is the thing in this life that frustrates me most. Its one of those things, like a colleague’s constant throat clearing, that once you have made yourself aware, you can never look past it.
I am thankful to have my eyes open to this world, to be a mindful participant in the fight for equality rather than a blissful bystander who ignorantly wonders what everyone’s complaining about. But I also find myself to be a bit of a drag, too.

I have a hard time enjoying entertainment for entertainment. I don’t see “Avatar” as a neat sci-fi flick. I see it as big-screen imperialism. I don’t see “The Blind Side” as a touching story about family. I see the perpetuation of the White Savior Complex. In every movie that hits the theatres I see sexism, homophobia or misogyny. I. Am. Not. Fun.

Sometimes, however, I find myself liking one of these bits of entertainment despite myself. I don’t pretend not to see bias, I don’t excuse my behavior by thinking of my indulgence as research – I simply enjoy it (albeit, with a little bit of guilt). There are a few movies and books that fall into this category, but there is one particularly guilty pleasure that tops the list: Esquire Magazine.

I LOVE Esquire magazine.

In concept, Esquire could be the table of contents for my own dissertation on inequality. This is a magazine for men. Primarily rich white men. It not only perpetually reinforces stereotypes of how to define masculinity, but it also objectifies women (I would say proudly objectifies women) on almost every page of the magazine. But it also has some of the best writing in the industry, a creative and evolved style, a great sense of humor and subjects and features that almost always interest me.

For instance, in April, the glorious Tina Fey graced to cover – looking sexy, sultry and strong – a woman who is often framed by the media as homely and particularly unsexy. The article also wasn’t a typical breakdown of her accomplishments or a calculated attempt to talk about sex or defining “sex symbols” it was a four page spread of her own words.

To be clear, the Tina Fey feature was a bright spot in the dark ocean of sexist sections such as a tab on the website for “Women”and articles like “Is Kagan gay? An Investigation” about our current nominee for the Supreme Court. And this little gem:

“The Man’s Guide to Women
How to make them happy. How to hold them, dance with them, understand their strange words, fix them when they break, and more.”

Scott Rabb contributes a lot to Esquire, and really is a engaging writer. A couple years ago he wrote a spicy first person advice column recommending that men quote William Butler Yeats to their girlfriends, “But I want you to get laid right. If it’s merely dipping your wick, Yeats can’t help. But I have learned the difference between having sex and diving into the shadowy pool or high lonely misery between a woman’s legs.” Sure Raab borrows a little from Yeats there, but it still evident that although his objectification of women is disgusting; his writing is catchy, youthful and shocking.

So that stuff is gross, BUT they also have a Drinks Database, The Best Bars in America section, a Fiction section, and adeptly cover politics and entertainment. The writing is great. The magazine is sharp and smart. It’s a rough call for this gal, for sure.

Esquire, with its long history, has published some of the best writers out there and made its mark with some famous pieces such as Gay Talese’s 1966 iconic profile “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold.” Esquire began as a racy men’s magazine in the 30′s. While its sleek visual appearance, large glossy photographs and advertisements smell of new money, the content and language of many of the articles is still very “boy’s club.”

Is it acceptable to enjoy and appreciate things that directly protest your views? For comparison in the magazine world, Esquire is not like Outside Magazine which is geared toward men but doesn’t exude the same gender binary enforcement or sexism that Esquire does.

So, who reads this magazine? Gay men? Gay ladies? Anyone want to come clean?

MORE:
Here’s a a neat article about Esquire Covers in the 60’s:

And here’s a clip of text of some really lovely writing from the magazine – I mean, how great is this?

Mr. Pitt & His Magical Mattress By Mike Sager
“A thunderous revving noise ruptures the quiet of the Spitfire Grill on a lazy afternoon in Santa Monica, California, accompanied by a series of subsonic reverberations that tinkle the ice cubes of my overfull water glass, breaking the surface tension, sending droplets down the side. Abruptly, all is still. The birds in the tree out front renew their chirping and tittering; the waitress resumes filling the saltshakers. Steely Dan harmonizes on the sound system overhead. The door opens, and he walks in–his helmet beneath his arm–like Achilles entering his tent. He pauses a moment, looks around. The joint is empty. He seems relieved. He is wearing a nondescript nylon jacket and jeans; a BMW messenger bag is slung across his chest. Reaching the booth, he pulls off his gloves, one finger at a time, and stuffs them into the open cavity of his full-face motorcycle helmet. He offers a hand, an easy smile. He shoves everything into a corner of the booth and slides in.”

Full text here.

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