Drop Dead Diva
Drop Dead Diva
Since I have been on a roll lately, writing about the intersections of fatphobia, popular culture and media, I decided to write about Drop Dead Diva. I was hesitant to write about Drop Dead Diva as a form of media starring a plus-size woman because of how niche and not mainstream it was. Not niche in a hipster, exclusive, extra-refined-taste way: niche as in produced for the Lifetime network. I find it insulting that television and media marketed to women are given less respect and seen as less than and inferior to male-centric shows. There is a patronizing aura and stigma surrounding television and films marketed solely to women: that they are trashy, low quality, cheesy, etc. See: romantic comedies, Lifetime movies, reality TV shows, etc. However, shows and movies that are male-driven and marketed to men are seen as eclectic, praise-worthy, critically acclaimed, good for all audiences, etc. If women are fans of shows and movies that have large male fanbases, then they are seen as the "cool girl" (e.g. the one described in the Gone Girl book: google it). However, if men like movies and TV shows or other things marketed to women, it is seen as embarrassing: this goes back to the idea that being a woman is viewed as inherently shameful. This is what I think of when pondering Drop Dead Diva: this dynamic is present in the way that the show was marketed to women. It aired on Lifetime, showcased a main character that was an almost satirical version of a Girly Girl, and of course the title, Drop Dead Diva. It screams, this is not television that should be taken seriously and should only be watched by women who love pink, Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, and carrying tiny dogs in designer purses (a la Paris Hilton). This marketing is unfortunate because Drop Dead Diva (title aside) did have substance, as a legal drama with plotlines revolving around court cases. Make no mistake: I have nothing against Elle Woods, pink (my favorite color) or even the word diva (ok, maybe a little). I take issue with the way that media is gendered and how media that is marketed towards women is devalued and taken less seriously (girly girls should be taken seriously too: wasn't that the conclusion of Legally Blonde?)
I enjoyed Drop Dead Diva, its legal scenes and most importantly, the reason why I am writing about it today: its premise. Twenty-something, blonde, white, thin model Deb dies in a car accident and goes to heaven. However, when she reaches heaven, she is in such a state of panic over what has happened and her need to get back to her life, that she presses the return button on an angel's computer (yaa, angels in heaven register the deceased on computers in this show ha). Pressing the return button sends her soul hurtling back to Earth, where it inhabits the body of another recently departed soul. Deb's soul ends up in the body of a white, thirty-something, size 16/plus-size brunette lawyer named Jane. Deb gets a second chance at life, but this time she must learn to live as Jane, the plus-size brunette lawyer whose body she accidentally obtained. As luck would have it, Jane happens to work in the same law firm as the love of Deb's life, her fiancé Grayson, a tall, white, conventionally attractive man. To complicate matters, Deb's guardian angel (the angel that was registering her in heaven) comes down to Earth and tells her that she can tell no one the truth about how she is really Deb in Jane's body. However, she ends up telling her best friend Stacey (also a twenty-something, blonde, white, thin model) because it is hard to keep a secret from the one who knows you best.
I find the essentialism of Jane and Deb in the beginning of the show to be annoying: Jane, before she died, is presented as a dowdy woman who does not take pride in her appearance or like her life very much. We only get to see her body wearing form-fitting clothes, makeup and held confidently after it is inhabited by Deb's soul. This reaffirms thin privilege in an eerie way: a plus-size woman's body only gets pampered when it is possessed by the soul of a thin woman. However, as many plus-size fashionistas and women reclaiming their bodies and lives as there are, this plotline is true to form: some plus-size people internalize fatphobia, don't like their bodies and live their lives accordingly. For that matter, not every plus-size woman is a fashionista, into fashion trends or makeup and that is totally fine (plus-size media cultivates that image). I appreciate the questions this show poses about which people and what types of bodies our society deems as desirable. Watching Deb adjust to life as Jane highlights the challenges and obstacles plus-size people face because of their norm-defying bodies. The hardest obstacle Jane/Deb must grapple with is the heartbreaking reality of working in the same law firm as her former fiancé Grayson and not being able to tell him who she really is. The main conflict, tension, and plot of the show is Jane/Deb's challenge in making Grayson fall in love with her, but this time as Jane and not Deb. The understanding is that this task is much harder to do in her new size 16 body as opposed to the first time around, when she was in a size 2 body. I love this main plotline along with how Jane's intelligence is showcased through her career as a brilliant lawyer and the celebration of female friendships via her best friendship with Stacey. I will remember this show as being one of the first times I saw my body type represented on the small screen. It is also one of the few times a plus-size woman has had a starring role as opposed to a thin woman wearing a fat suit a la Gwyneth Paltrow in Shallow Hal.
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