Around 12:30 last night I was walking home from a friend’s house, just a few blocks away. It was a gorgeous evening – mild and breezy – and after months of winter ickiness, the streets and sidewalks were cluttered with people out reveling in the newness of Spring.

Given the balmy weather, it was no surprise that the taxi that pulled up at the light had its windows down. I stood, waiting for the light to change as the driver tried to make a buck, You need a taxi? he asked. I shook my head and looked the other direction. You’re a great beauty, he called. Very beautiful.

I’m guessing you’d be hard-pressed to find a woman in this country who doesn’t experience something along these lines on a ridiculously regular basis. I walk a lot: past the stereotypical construction workers, the lonely homeless men and the random asshats who take no pause before objectifying my sex. Normally the insulting compliments don’t phase me. I’m jaded enough at this point that, unfortunately, it usually doesn’t occur to me how problematic this is in our culture.

Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was discomfort of (albeit mild) solicitation coupled with the childhood-ingrained notion that, You don’t take rides from strangers. Maybe my subconscious picked up on other things and it really would have been dangerous for me to get in that car.

Regardless, for reasons I can’t quite pin down, this particular encounter – so typical in my daily life – pissed me off.

I woke up this morning with questions and frustration still rolling around inside my head. For distraction, I mindlessly flipped on the television as I tidied my apartment. I surfed through the usual Sunday morning chaff and hit upon the 2005 remake of King Kong. You know, the one with Naomi Watts and Adrien Brody. And my frustration spiked again.

I’ve never seen an Adrien Brody movie. It hasn’t been for lack of interest or opportunity. I wanted to see The Pianist and I will, eventually, watch The Darjeerling Limited. I love Jason Schwartzman a little too much not to.

The problem is, I can’t look at Adrien Brody without feeling violated.

I wish that I didn’t – I really do. He’s got that dark, brooding air about him that I find appealing, he seems like a reasonably intelligent guy and, potentially, he’s got some acting chops as well (at least according to the notoriously elitist Academy).

It’s that damn kiss.

Five years later, every time I see his face, I think of Adrien Brody forcing himself on Halle Berry at the Academy Awards in 2003. I can’t put it any better than one of the (now former) co-directors at Men Can Stop Rape, so I’m just going to quote. Massively. You should really just go read the whole thing though:

…rather than respectfully receive the coveted golden statue from Halle Berry, [the previous] year’s recipient of the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role, with some standard version of a handshake, hug, or kiss on the cheek, Brody, instead, grabbed and dipped Ms. Berry, gave her a deep, passionate, extended kiss on the lips, and then joked to her and the audience “Bet you didn’t know that that was part of the gift bag.” While some in the audience chuckled, Ms. Berry was left off-balance, surprised, and silent.

Oh, where do I start to unpack this behavior? Was it sexist? - another example of a man ignoring a woman’s strengths and humanity and treating her as little more than a pretty face and a sexy body, reducing her in front of the very peers who had recognized her just the year before as uniquely talented. Was it racist backlash? - some display of resentment towards the first black woman to receive the Best Actress Oscar, an attempt to put her back in her place, to unconsciously reenact the rape of black female slaves by white slave owners. Was it male privilege? - a demonstration of men’s entitlement to women’s bodies to do with as we please. Was it proving manhood? - an effort by a man who was being recognized for playing the role of the subjugated and powerless to reassert and reaffirm that he was, in reality, a powerful, virile, masculine figure. Was it yet another justification for sexual assault and violation? - a warped wrapping of men’s sexual aggression toward women as a “gift” that women secretly crave…

My answer: Brody’s behavior was, in some way, all of the above, and more. Was it a conscious, intentional attack? Doubtful. Did he get caught up in the excitement of the moment? Probably. Does it mean that Adrien Brody is an “evil man”? Not likely…

However, does his behavior highlight Brody’s failure to understand the links that exist between different forms of oppression? Absolutely. Does it suggest a lack of appreciation for the ways that his own actions toward Ms. Berry are deeply, though perhaps distantly, connected to the oppressive treatment by Nazi commanders that Brody’s character and countless Jews, Gypsies, Gays, and others received during the Holocaust. It seems so. Could the choices he made be perceived as giving permission to those with power to act as they wish toward those with less. Likely. Do his actions run the risk of reinforcing harmful and demeaning cultural stereotypes and silencing those who challenge them. I would say resoundingly “yes.”

Word.

Perhaps I just missed it, but there didn’t seem to be much backlash to Adrien Brody’s inappropriateness back in 2003 – at least nothing of note in the mainstream. The incident seemed to be written off an as amusing anecdote or even, horrifyingly, as a charming moment to be highlighted and revered.

Similarly, my experience on the way home last night can be written off as No Big Deal. It’s harmless, right? Silly, right? There’s nothing wrong with being called beautiful, right? Wrong. And, honestly, I do write off situations like this pretty much every day.

Which makes me part of the problem.

I put it to you, dear readers: How does a feminist respond firmly and unequivocally to this type of innate sexism without escalating a situation? When you cannot (and really should not) take the time to explain the inappropriate and harmful nature of these comments, what is a productive response? I’m at a loss.

Watching this clip five years later, and listening to Adrien Brody’s speech, I want to think that he just had a horribly thoughtless moment. I’m certain, for Halle Berry at this point, this is No Big Deal and it’s time for me to move forward and watch that Jason Schwartzman movie.

Regardless, these are symptoms of a deeply-rooted cultural problem that this feminist isn’t sure how to remedy, in the most practical of senses.

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