The animals, the animals, trapped trapped trapped ‘till the cage is full…and you've got time!
I’m not going to lie. I was bouncing up and down in bed with my best friend the day the new season of "Orange is the New Black" came out, singing along. Loudly.
The names popped across the screen with an array of faces: Taylor Schilling, Uzo Aduba, Dascha Polanco, Samira Wiley, Yael Stone and so many more -- all the women who make this show incredible.
One of the things that makes this show such a draw for me is the inherent celebration of the female body – wait for it – not sexually. Of course, the show does involve (and has involved from the beginning) a lot of sex, between any combination of genders you could ask for. What it also includes, however, is women, stretch marks and fat rolls and all, walking around the bathroom naked while they brush their teeth and wait for the showers in the morning. It shows women not just in their bras and underwear, but in their extra coverage non-padded bras and their granny panties that come to their belly buttons. Sure, they’re actresses, but the women on this show are real – they’re real as hell, to be quite frank.
I love how openly the women discuss their bodies and their sex lives. This inherent comfort surrounding the female form, both in sexual and nonsexual contexts, that perpetuates every scene of the show makes me near-giddy each time I click on a new episode (and yes, Netflix, I do want to continue watching, so please stop asking me).
It’s not even limited to the discussion. As I said before, it is not uncommon for the women to be wearing little or no clothing, and I honestly love it. I’ll say it a thousand times, but the lack of constant sexuality and promiscuity implied by a pair of breasts is one of the best things I could ask for out of this show. Even when someone (often a male character in an authority position) tries to catcall or sexualize the women, it’s out of the norm and ends up coming off as disgusting and pathetic.
On top of all that, even the sexual aspects of the show aren’t romanticized. These aren’t scenes with rose petals and candles and a beautiful white heterosexual couple making love on a king bed. Once again, there are imperfections that exist on literally every human body, regardless of gender, that are actually celebrated, not only in a, “you do you and ignore everyone else – you’re perfect how you are” way, but also in a way that shows that sex and love are not reserved for the people who grace the cover of Nicholas Sparks novels. And the two are similarly crucial to highlight. For young women, and particularly young women of color, struggling with body image and self-esteem issues, the juxtaposition of sexuality and normality portrayed in this show can provide a type of reassurance that is invaluable for healthy mental, emotional and sexual development.
