"Lena Dunham talked about that in her book - " I said, during a recent conversation about with a coworker. Before I could continue, I noticed her flinch.
"Ugghh. I HATE Lena Dunham," said my coworker. My heart sank, and I coached myself to stay calm and try to learn more instead of crying. Then I casually asked her why.
She immediately listed a litany of complaints: she's pretentious, she's over-privileged, she grew up in Brooklyn, her parents were rich artists, and what could she know about the real world. It also annoyed her that Lena claimed to be the voice of her generation.*
I'd heard similar arguments from others. I had an evening with a friend ruined when she literally recoiled at the mention of Lena Dunham. When I asked why, she said something to the effect that the only reason Lena is successful is because her parents were wealthy artists.
Another of my closest friends is uncomfortable with Lena's propensity to be naked on screen, to discuss matters of sexuality frankly and to "over-share" in general. I can sympathize with this position more easily. Despite being an over-sharer myself (I once delivered a monologue about my history of eating disorders while stripping down to my ugliest underwear), I understand that most people aren't eager to be confronted by the less glamorous aspects of the human experience. Not that it's going to stop me from compulsively revealing the flaws that others try to hide.
Before these relatively recent conversations, I had been blissfully unaware of the Lena controversy. The intensity of my friends' reactions to her came as somewhat of a shock to me. I might have expected it from men, who have been hand-fed the illusion that women should only look and act in accordance to their world view. But I didn't expect my fellow (liberal, feminist, ambitious and intelligent) women to respond to Lena with the kind of vehement disgust that I typically reserve for pants, bigots and other forces of evil.
And because I'm ridiculously sensitive when it comes to my personal heroes, I haven't delved too deeply into the world of online opinion-sharing to learn more. I believe that she creates art that is important, brave, original, thought-provoking, emotionally challenging, empowering and sometimes just downright entertaining, and I don't need to convince you that I'm right about that. Her art makes me feel less crazy and less alone in my craziness, and that's really all that matters. She's a grown up with a ton of fans and friends, and she doesn't need me to defend her.
But it bothers me enough that I feel I have to write about it. Because it's not just that I consider Lena a hero. It's that people hate her for circumstances and personality traits that I also share.
If you know me at all or have read anything I've written, you know that self-revelation is like a religion to me. Ask me how I'm doing, and I'll tell you. Tell me how you're doing, and I'll tell you an embarrassing story about myself to make you feel more comfortable and safe. Invite me to perform in your variety show, and just make sure you tell me if the venue has a strict policy on wearing pants and cursing.
So I get the impulse to "transform the energy life throws at you into the folded bows of art," as Lena's father's admonished her. I don't mind the criticism that this tendency inspires nearly as much as the other argument against Lena. The privilege thing. The topic I avoid at all cost, because I don't want people to dismiss me or envy me or resent me. But I've been recently inspired to confront my privilege, so here we go.
I'm a white girl with wealthy parents. I grew up in an affluent suburb, sheltered from violence, excluded from racism, untouched by poverty or hunger. I always had food on my plate, clothes on my body and a roof over my head, but worst of all, I had parents that loved me and supported me and instilled morals and values in me. They also bought me a car when I was sixteen and paid for my college education and helped me buy my home.
If you're not hating me by now, probably you're at least resenting me. If you're not, you're a bigger person than I am. Because the resentment my privilege (and Lena's) provokes is the same kind of resentment I feel for people who had friends in high school, who genuinely enjoyed their college years, who have old friends they've known forever in lieu of a decade-long void in their social and psychological well-being. We think, "if only I'd had [insert advantage], things wouldn't be so hard for me." It's especially hard when we see someone with advantages we lacked succeeding in something we'd like to be doing.
I somehow doubt that Lena's parents, as fine artists, got her a show on HBO. It's easy to assume that wealth can afford you anything, because it does make life easier in a lot of ways. But it can't give you ambition or talent or a strong work ethic or a reprieve from incurable illnesses. It can't guarantee you a stable home life or meaningful relationships. I'm not saying it's hard to have money available to you. I'm just saying it doesn't make everything easy.
Lena had plenty of advantages, but I suspect that her greatest advantage had less to do with the financial status of her parents than with the emotional support they provided. Since I can't speculate about the nature of their relationship, I'll explain this in terms of my upbringing.
I had parents who taught me the difference between right and wrong. Money was never something my siblings and I felt entitled to. "Get a job" was one of my mom's favorite refrains. If we weren't on a team or in a club after school, we were expected to work (which is how I ended up at manning the register of a butcher shop for my first non-babysitting job).
We had dinner as a family pretty much every night, and I can't remember playing a basketball game or performing in a dance recital without my parents in the audience. When I got sidelined by depression at 15, my mom took me to doctors and made sure I got to school and took me to my dad's hockey games to get me out of the house. Eventually, they took me to treatment, too, and did everything in their power to keep me from destroying myself. I didn't make it easy. But they loved me at my sickest and supported me as I got well, and I never have to fear being abandoned because of them.
From what I've read and heard in interviews and podcasts, Lena had the same advantage. She also had something that is even more valuable to an aspiring artist: two living examples of people who made their living as artists. She had proof that it was possible to succeed in art and parents who nurtured and validated her creative ambitions. Maybe that's where her audacity comes from. Maybe that's what the haters resent. And I couldn't argue with that kind of anger. Everyone deserves to have parents who love, nurture and support them, and it's absolute bullshit that so many are deprived of that experience.
So if you're going to hate Lena Dunham, that's fine. I'm not writing to convince you that she's great.** But I would challenge you to re-examine your position. Dislike what she creates. Disagree with what she says. But work harder to have a more thoughtful answer to "why do you hate her?" than "her parents were rich." That's lazy, and you're better than that.
For my part, I'll work on forgiving you for having fond memories of high school.***
*Lena did not say that she is the voice of her generation. Her character said that. Her character says a lot of egotistical and self-involved things that reveal, through the power of hyperbole, the egotistical and self-involved thoughts anyone with ambition or human frailty sometimes harbors. It's uncomfortable to watch her and listen to her if you lack the ability to laugh and roll your eyes at yourself for having unflattering features. But if you watch and listen with a sense of humor and a willingness to endure discomfort for the sake of provoking thought, it's pretty interesting.
*Of course I really, really want you to love her. I'm trying to not care, but I can't help it. So maybe just keep your opinion to yourself, and I'll do the same, and we'll continue walking and talking about anything else until I calm down enough to remember that Lena is not your surrogate for everything I represent. And everything will be okay.
**You bastard.
