Over the weekend, Jonah Hill’s ex-girlfriend Sarah Brady leaked a series of messages between the two, detailing alarming “boundaries” Hill set out for their now ended relationship. Hill allegedly (the exchange isn’t verified) explained his needs for romantic partnership didn’t support Brady “surfing with men,” “boundaryless inappropriate friendships with men,” posting pictures “in a bathing suit,” posting “sexual pictures,” “modeling,” or “friendships with women who are in unstable places from your wild recent past beyond getting lunch of a coffee or something respectful.” Many of us have joked that this sounds like the perfect marginally unhealthy, slightly dissociative, completely autonomous summer. We could even jokingly argue that boundaryless inappropriate friendships with men are exactly what your 20s are for. But glibness, fun as it is, won’t staunch the coercive control bleeding out of Hill’s (alleged) words.
For me, articulating boundaries means accurately identifying people, places, or things that test your moral truth, personal safety, or emotional well-being in order to make the decision to either challenge the overstep or remove yourself from the situation entirely. Boundaries are not a way to stop your partner surfing with men or modeling. Boundaries are not a device to contain another person’s actions, to control them. It’s amazing to see how the therapized language—something protective by design—is being used to easily breezily usher in manipulative, misogynistic behaviors. In this new normal—an icky era of weaponized therapy—softbois argue your autonomy away with open logic and emotional upfront-ness. It’s very “it hurts me so bad when you seem free,” and it’s all being done so matter-of-factly. It’s not dramatic; it’s not forged in the outward rage we’re used to from toxic men. It feels reasoned and reasonable, verging on the emotionally pragmatic. And yet it’s a hideous bunting of red flags, an incredibly eloquent exercise of coercive control.
Hill also asked his then girlfriend to delete a series of photos from her feed, some of which she’s now reposting. These pictures of Brady—in our increasingly hypersexualized, faux-coquettish times, where sexual availability is quietly announced to our Instagram followers—feel startlingly sexless and benign. Most adult women (and men) know when their content is subtextually provocative or inviting, yet we see none of this in the excavated pics; they’re un-thirst traps. But the way sexuality and sexual availability is assessed is a huge part of the issue at play.
By the logic of Hill’s messages, the devices women use to catch a man—flesh, flirtation, frivolity—are to be stopped once the man is snared. When a woman retains pride in her appearance, when she keeps her confidence and maintains friendships on her own terms, she reinforces her autonomy, her capability apart from her partner, and above all emphasizes her position as not his possession. This is what the misogynists don’t like: women who don’t fall into submissive-adjacent roles. These debates are never really about bathing suits or boundaries; the guise of caring for her well-being is erroneous. They are about a woman relinquishing who she is for her man.
We can get into the seaweeds of what surfwear is appropriate for a professional surfer: a bikini, a conservative wet suit, Nigella Lawson’s infamous burkini? It does seem a little shortsighted to date a professional surfer if you’re not keen on seeing your spouse in a bathing suit in public. But location and usage aren’t the issue here; comparing the fashion with the functionality misses the point. It’s been said too many times to mention, but once sodding more for the men at the back: How a woman dresses is up to her. It doesn’t actually matter what she’s doing. It’s not right that if your skirt is longer and your cleavage is off show, you should feel safer—that your body is a series of triggers for predators and to flaunt certain parts invites advances. We’re still stuck in a cycle of near-constant sexualization of women’s bodies, whether at home or at work or on the beach or in an office or walking downtown, minding her own damn business. I was hoping we’d come further than nasty, put some clothes on, but we still seem to be monitoring women and their choices and clothes. I know I’m stating the bleeding obvious here, but it’s a woman’s prerogative to look and act how she fucking pleases—within and without a romantic union.
Finally, there’s been some debate on whether Brady should have released the private messages in the first place. Was it justice that motivated her, or was it vengeance? Some echelons are asking if coercive men should be as entitled to privacy as the rest of us. On that I will say only this: Toxic, coercive, manipulative misogyny won’t dry up if we keep it behind closed doors. We have to out it to stamp it out. Thinking of Hill as the bad guy misses the point because the entire system needs our scrutiny. We have to keep shedding light on these men—there’s nowhere to hide in the spotlight.