CONTENT WARNING: This blog post contains mentions of sexual violence and uses language and examples that could be upsetting. Please read with discretion. 

Potentiality Statement: My name is Audrey Gatewood, and I am a senior-year Social Work student at UMBC, and field intern at the Women’s Center. In this blog I am writing about the relatively new position of an Intimacy Coordinator on film and theater sets. I describe the need for intimacy coordinators, what they do, how they are being used, and the larger cultural implications of creating this new role. I have an educational background in theater and film production and work as a photographer. Additionally much of my academic focus has been around sexual and gender based violence. The implementation of intimacy coordinators on sets is an exciting move towards safer and more equitable work environments for actors. Please note, I am not an intimacy coordinator, and I have never worked with or interviewed one. I am writing from research I have done, and general observations and understandings around production environments and rape culture. I will be talking about actors in film and theater interchangeably, though there are nuanced differences in their work circumstances, history and experiences. 

Paul Mescal and Daisy Edgar Jones during the filming of Normal People.Photography Enda Bowe/BBC/Element Pictures/Hulu . Image shows a bedroom film set, with two white people laying together in a white bed, undressed covered by sheets. They are surrounded by camera and lighting equipment, and two film crew members directing the scene. 

In the 1972 drama, Last Tango in Paris, actress Maria Schnieder was 19 years old and new to the film industry. So, when she arrived on set and was told, unbeknownst to her previously, that she would need to shoot a graphic scene where her character would be raped, she felt she couldn’t say no. Schnieder was working with esteemed Hollywood star Marlon Brando, 48 years old at the time, and director Bernardo Bertolucci, 31. She spoke on the incident in an interview in 2007: 

“ They only told me about it before we had to film the scene and I was so angry. I should have called my agent or had my lawyer come to the set because you can’t force someone to do something that isn’t in the script, but at the time, I didn’t know that. Marlon said to me: ‘Maria, don’t worry, it’s just a movie’, but during the scene, even though what Marlon was doing wasn’t real, I was crying real tears. I felt humiliated and to be honest, I felt a little raped, both by Marlon and by Bertolucci. After the scene, Marlon didn’t console me or apologize. Thankfully, there was just one take” https://www.washingtonpost.com/arts-entertainment/2018/11/26/story-behind-filmmaker-bernardo-bertoluccis-last-public-controversy/ 

Actors may find themselves in challenging, harmful or unethical work situations where their boundaries are blurred. Not many other jobs pose the risks associated with having to simulate scenarios that could involve violence, emotional turmoil, physically demanding stunts, nudity and vulnerable intimacy. This can be paired with power dynamics, the high stakes of a professional acting role, and the expectation that the actor should be willing to do anything for the character, like we see in the case of Maria Schnieder.   

That being said, if you ask someone if there should be a stunt coordinator on an action movie, they might say “of course.” What about someone to choreograph a fight? Of course, you wouldn’t just tell an actor to swing swords at each other, or jump out of a building, would you? 

While stunts and fights are understood as explicitly risky, scenes which involve intimacy generate risk as well. If done unethically, sex and nudity in productions can be traumatic experiences for actors, who may be expected to just ‘know how’ to portray intimacy, be comfortable being exposed, and endure the blurring of their personal boundaries versus the wants of the director. Intimacy coordinator Clare Worden says, “It ranges from the just really awkward and uncomfortable, to finding tongues in your mouth when you don’t expect a tongue in your mouth, and it all goes all the way up the scale to, you know, full-on sexual assault.” Intimacy coordinator and the associate director and co-founder of Intimacy Directors International (IDI) Alicia Rodis says, “ “[…] violent scenes we could choreograph, we could talk about. But when we got to intimate scenes, no one really knew how to approach it, or really have a common language about [them].” Stunt coordinators and combat choreographers have been staples on large productions for decades. And though intimacy has been featured in film and theater for just as long, it’s only recently that a new position has been established: An intimacy coordinator.  

An intimacy coordinator brings professional skills and ethical perspectives to choreographing intimate scenes in theater and film. Their job is to work with the director and actors to map out the specifics of a sex scene, so that boundries are clear and informed consent can be granted. The actors will rehearse the scenes with the coordinator present, creating a safe technical foundation for the actors to work from. Special protective cups, modesty garments, tapes, and other tools are included, as well.  “My motto is no surprises- we should have a very clear plan before we get to set about what’s going to happen,” says intimacy coordinator Lindsay Somers. “[We discuss] the degree of nudity, wardrobe, and choreography for the scene, and the performers personal boundaries are included in the choreography. They aren’t puppets or chess pieces to be moved around.”  

A major benefit of having an intimacy coordinator on set is that they can act as liaisons and advocates for actors’ boundaries. They are informed about actors’ contracts, workplace safety rights, specifics of the script, and consensually decide on choreography, making them theoretically unwavering to boundary-violating suggestions. Consider Maria Schnieder’s experience, and how it could have been different had there been an intimacy coordinator on set to help her say no in the face of two powerful, older men. 

More and more productions are employing intimacy coordinators, perhaps in response to highly publicized social movements and controversies. For example, Hollywood had a reckoning in 2017 through the ‘#MeToo’ movement, branching off of earlier work done by activist Tarana Burke, in which people who had experienced sexual violence shared a solidarity hashtag, ‘metoo,’ on social media. Hollywood actors joined the movement, and in the process exposed predatory figures in the industry, most notably producer Harvey Weinstien, who had more then 80 allegations of sexual assault and rape against him. This cultural moment set off a public discourse about sexual assault on sets, and perhaps created an environment where more actors felt empowered coming forward.

Infographic from Consent Wizardry

Emilia Clarke, famous for playing Daenerys Targarye on HBO’s Game of Thrones, is one in a growing list of actors who have publicly stated they felt pressured or disregarded during filming on intimate scenes on set. Clarke said she found herself vulnerable to the demands of the directors, noting that she initially acquiesced to such explicit on-screen nudity because she was 23 years old and fresh out of school, working on her first major film set. “I’ve had fights on set before where I’m like, ‘No, sheet stays up,’ and they’re like, ‘You don’t wanna disappoint your Game of Thrones fans.’ And I’m like, ‘F*** you.'” 

Perhaps as a response to the negative backlash HBO and GOT faced from Clarke’s comments, and the overall shift from #MeToo, not only HBO but Amazon Prime and Netflix now require intimacy coordinators on their sets, and many other recent productions have employed them as well. Bridgerton, Euphoria, and I Will Destroy You are just a few of many recent productions that utilize intimacy coordinators. 

In 2019, The biggest U.S. actors union adopted new guidelines for nudity and simulated sex scenes. It seems the relatively new implementation of the intimacy coordinator is here to stay on film and theater sets. 

Intimacy coordinator Alicia Rodis on set. CBS NEWS. Three people film a scene outdoors;  a Black woman with long locs lays on the ground on a tarp like material with a white, shirtless man kneeling above her. An additional person, Alicia Rodis, squats to the right of the actors, speaking and gesturing towards the woman. Camera equipment is visible in the background

As Alicia Rodis points out, violence and stunts have been comfortably choreographed on sets for years, but productions have been unequip for forthright and equitable conversations about sex, intimacy and nudity. Culturally, we are adjusted to displays of violence as entertainment, but view intimacy both as so sensitive that we struggle to be transparent about it, and yet entertaining enough to feature in tons of media. Without a clarified professional or process on set, who is guiding the intimacy? 

I would argue it’s our broad, cultural understandings around sex running the show, which is a potentially dangerous thing. Unfortunately, our larger culture around sex is often not healthy or transparent, rather it dictated by what scholars call rape culture. The term rape culture refers to a setting in which the normalization of rape, assault, and coercion are intertwined with common attitudes about gender and sex in general. This can show up in more subtle, daily occurrences, such as how the news covers instances of sexual violence using minimizing language, and the aligned social commentary that follows. For example, the following is a headline from The Sun, a Brisish tabloid news paper, covering the rape and murder of 20 year old India Chipchase by Edward Tenniswood : “Woman ‘drank six Jagerbombs in ten minutes on the night she was raped and murdered.” The staff’s attempt to pin blame on Chipchase for drinking creates a direct, common scapegoat: she was asking for it. 

  Rape culture also shows up, for example, in how a friend may talk about a date they went on, where they saw how their date was dressed as a form of consent. Studies show that college students frequently do not have a consistent definition of consent, and displayed varrying attitudes and experiences around sex based on gendered expectations. Rape culture can appear as victim blaming, sexual objectification, ‘slut-shaming,’ trivializing sexual harm, and more- all of which is influenced by media that doesn’t approach intimacy with a safe, consent-based framework. 

Even as there is an increase in the prevalence of intimacy coordinators, there is still a skepticism attached to the role. Intimacy coordinator Elle McAlpine says, “When we go on set, we’re sometimes called the fun police. It’s not about that; it’s about educating people about this work.” This displays both a misunderstanding of the coordinators job, and a telling indicator of rape culture. What does it mean that when someone being deliberate, negotiating and enforcing boundaries, and being explicit and intentional about intimacy, is considered ruining the ‘fun’? 

It seems that the use of intimacy coordinators is only going to increase from here on, which could indicate a positive collective shift in how we are viewing intimacy and consent. The amplification of intimacy coordinators as critical crew members will hopefully continue to bring conversations around consent and autonomy to the collective forefront, and make sets a safer place for actors to work. 

Additional Reference

Baldwin-White, A. (2021). “When a Girl Says No, You Should Be Persistent Until She Says Yes”: College Students and Their Beliefs About Consent. Journal of Interpersonal Violence

CBS Interactive.  How intimacy coordinators are changing the way intimate encounters are filmed. CBS News. 

Hilton, E. (2021, May 13). Let’s talk about simulated sex: Intimacy coordinators two years on. The Hollywood Reporter. 

Izadi, E. (2018, November 26). The story behind filmmaker Bernardo Bertolucci’s last public controversy. The Washington Post.

Lewis, S. (2019, November 21). Emilia Clarke says she’s been pressured to film nude scenes after “Game of thrones”. CBS News.

SAG, Standards protocols for the use of intimacy coordinators .

Content warning for sexual assault.

Morgan is a senior here at UMBC pursuing a BA in Media and Communications major with minors in English and Cinematic Arts. If she’s not working at the Women’s Center you can find her watching Ghost Shark (2013) with her friends. 

You know who Brock Turner is. 

In January 2015, Turner sexually assaulted “Emily Doe.”. His face was splattered everywhere in the media. Sometimes it was his mugshot and other times it was the shining photo of him competing on Stanford’s swimming team. He’s a rapist but look, he’s an athlete! One year later, in 2016, you knew his face and you knew his name. Prosecutors recommended six years. He was sentenced to six months. He served ninety days. In a letter to the judge, his father stated that legal repercussions were a “steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life.” 

We were all forced to reckon with the reality that for many victims of sexual assault they get no real sense of justice, in court or otherwise. Emily Doe was a blank space and Brock Turner’s narrative was the one that filled it.

That was until Chanel Miller revealed herself to be the “Emily Doe” in the case of Turner vs. the People. Now, the case takes on a different face. Not only is Chanel Miller a survivor of sexual assault, but she is a woman of color, white and Chinese-American. I, along with countless others, had assumed she was white. It immediately became clear why there had only been a six-month sentence, why the judge was so quick to discredit her, and why her facelessness resonated so deeply. Chanel Miller, like many before her, was another woman of color who knew all too well the intersections of white supremacy, rape culture, and violence against women of color.

Her pain feels familiar in too many ways. Miller was violated in the same way that white men historically and continually perpetuate violence (especially sexual violence) against women of color over and over again. Take for instance, the expected sexual violence against black women by their white slave owners. This was normalized so much so that raping a black woman was not a crime for much of history. How can you violate your own property? Or the comfort women of Eastern Asia–women and girls forced into sex slavery by the Japanese Army around World War II. Women from China, Korea, the Philippines, and many other areas were objectified by the Japanese who believed themselves to be a superior people. For the Imperial Japanese Army, it was not just about sex; rather, it was about power and domination.

Rape is never about pleasure. It’s about power. Chanel Miller was incapacitated beyond the point of consent and Brock Turner knew that — despite what his testimony might tell you. He saw an opportunity to exercise his power as a white man and he took it, leaving lasting harm on a woman of color he doesn’t know. 

In the aftermath of rape and sexual assault, his mugshot was in every headline and on every news report. Chanel Miller, in identity and aftermath, remanded faceless left with her perpetrator serving three months in jail with a six-month sentence from a judge who was later was recalled partly due to the public’s accusations of the negligence in the People v. Turner case.

In court, Chanel read a particularly powerful impact statement that went viral. I read the whole thing in one breathless sitting when it was first published. I remember my heart beating out of the chest as I read and read through Chanel’s (then “Emily Doe’s”) words to Brock Turner. “I am no stranger to suffering.”

She continues, “[Turner] made me a victim. In newspapers, my name was ‘unconscious intoxicated woman’, ten syllables, and nothing more than that. For a while, I believed that that was all I was. I had to force myself to relearn my real name, my identity. To relearn that this is not all that I am.”

Her words rang in my head and resonated with me. In leading Take Back the Night the past two years, sharing my own survivorship, and hearing the stories  of other women of color that sense of erasure feels reclaimed in a way.

It’s not about the Brock Turners anymore and their faces and all their harm. 

This is a list of questions Miller was asked at Turner’s trial. Read through them. Every single one. 

How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What’ d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? 

Okay, well, we’ll let Brock fill it in.

Sources:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/katiejmbaker/heres-the-powerful-letter-the-stanford-victim-read-to-her-ra

https://eji.org/history-racial-injustice-sexual-exploitation-black-women

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/dear-christine-blasey-ford-i-too-was-sexually-assaulted–and-its-seared-into-my-memory-forever/2018/10/03/2449ed3c-c68a-11e8-9b1c-a90f1daae309_story.html

https://www.usatoday.com/story/life/books/2019/09/24/chanel-miller-brock-turner-rape-emily-doe-book-review/2073117001/

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/24/opinion/chanel-miller-know-my-name.html

https://digitalcommons.law.umaryland.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1324&context=rrgc

The following is a guest post from UMBC alumna Juliette Seymour, MCS and GWST ’14, who was both inspired and incensed by the recent “Me Too” campaign. Although this widespread social media initiative has shed light on the pervasiveness of sexual violence and assault in our communities, Juliette writes about follow-through and next steps. 

Content note: Sexual abuse, rape, trauma

Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too. Me too.

Me too.

It’s endless. I cannot count the number of the “Me too” Facebook status I have seen since Sunday night. If you are not on Facebook, to provide some backstory, actress Alyssa Milano tweeted (a co-opted message from activist, Tarana Burke):

Screen shot from Alyssa Milano’s twitter: “If you’ve been sexually harassed or assaulted write ‘me too’ as a reply to this tweet.” Inset text reads: “Me too. Suggested by a friend: ‘If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too.’ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.”

Since then, my Facebook feed (and everyone else’s) has been nothing but “Me too’s.”

I posted one, deleted it. Then sat with a rock in my stomach. I’m used to this rock. It’s been with me since I was a child. This rock varies in size and weight, sometimes it’s small and manageable. Other times it’s large, growing past my stomach into my chest and throat making it nearly impossible for me to take deep breaths or speak. It’s grown as I have; the seemingly constant sexual abuse and rape that has happened throughout my life adding weight to this rock. You know this rock if you’ve experienced any sort of abuse/trauma. It sucks.

Quilt square from The Monument Quilt.

I sat with this rock in my stomach for a while. My overactive mind weighing the pros and cons of this campaign (I don’t know if that is the proper term, but honestly, I’m not here to overanalyze that aspect). Should I repost? Why did I delete it? Why did I hesitate to post in the first place? Why did it feel wrong?

Then it clicked.

We’ve already stood up. We’ve already put a mark on our backs. We’ve already gone to the police to be dismissed. We’ve already sat through questioning from everyone, and I mean, everyone – how long was your skirt, did you drink, have you had sex before, why were you out at night, why did you let them, why didn’t you say no, have you had sex with them before, aren’t you married, why didn’t you fight back, didn’t you want it at first, why didn’t you say something sooner – to be told it was our fault. Even though it is never EVER our fault.

We’ve been through this motion before.

Think of all the people who have stood up and said “Hey, Bill Cosby/Woody Allen/Donald Trump/Harvey Weinstein/Sean Penn/Dr. Luke/My friend/My family/Your friend/Your family/etc., has raped/sexually abused me.”

What happened to the survivor? Now, what happened to the abuser in these situations? If you don’t already know the answer, take a moment, think about it. What happened to Trump? Cosby?

The answer is nothing. Nothing happened to them. Hell, one of them is sitting in the oval office.

Where are the Facebook statuses of abusers/rapist saying “I did it” so we can understand the severity of this? Where are my supposed ‘allied’ cis men standing up to their friends when they make rape jokes, or catcall? Or rape. When are we going to start holding abusers accountable? When are we going to refer to our brothers and fathers as rapists, instead of our sisters and mothers as victims? When are we going to ask why did you rape instead of why were you raped? When are we going to teach how not to rape instead of how not to get raped?

Quilt square from The Monument Quilt.

When are we going to actually listen to survivors? And then when are we going to do more than just…listen?

I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did.

But what I do have is this:

First, and most importantly –  If you posted a Me Too status, if you didn’t, if you don’t believe that your story is “real” enough, if you are not safe or comfortable enough to post; I see you. I hear you. I believe you. You are not alone. And I love you.

Second, and almost as important – Now what?

I’m not going to post a Facebook status, sit back, and pretend it did something. I’m not going to do that, and I’m asking you to do the same. And I know it hurts, it’s painful, uncomfortable, and seems impossible. Trust me. I know what it feels like to not be able to speak the things that happened to you (and very slowly getting to a point where you can kind of talk about it in therapy). I know what it feels like to be retraumatized with panic attacks and sleepless nights following. I know what it feels like to have to live with your abuser. I know what it feels like to question, “Was it rape? Was it my fault?” (and accepting that yes, it was rape, and no, it’s not my fault).

I know.

But, we have to be uncomfortable, we have to work through the pain, we have to support each other in our respective journeys to healing.

Quilt square from The Monument Quilt.

So here is my action plan. To hold myself accountable, and to provide a possible road map for you. I do not know what your story is, how your healing will come, or what will happen. Hell, I don’t even know if my plan will work. But for right now, it’s all that I got:

1. Go to therapy
2. Delete Facebook off my phone (at least for a few days)
3. Check-in with myself (you have to put the oxygen mask on yourself first) and then friends
4. Start volunteering with the Monument Quilt again (the studio is close to my house, and I made myself email them before finishing this post to ensure I followed through)
5. Look into support groups for survivors

IMPORTANT NOTES:

I cannot stress this enough to my fellow survivors: This is in no way to shame or put down those who have found comfort/strength/healing through this hashtag Facebook thing (I still don’t know what to call it). I hope with all of my heart that this creates a sense of community, love, healing, and will do the thing it’s supposed to do. This is not directed towards those who find healing through these means, I’m happy you have that. I am SO happy you have that.

This is me wanting more from society. Not you.

And, it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it: ABUSE/RAPE HAPPENS ACROSS ALL GENDER LINES. WOMAN, MAN, TRANS, GENDERQUEER, NO GENDER, ALL GENDER. IT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE.

And, an important note on race: I am white. This is my white perspective. Race obviously plays a role in this. I do not feel adept to write about that. I do not want to assume/overpower or write for POC because their voices should be raised.

Quilt square from The Monument Quilt.

• For more information and resources related to sexual assault and gender-based violence, visit our website or contact the Women’s Center at 410.455.2714.
• For more information about reporting at UMBC, the sexual misconduct policy, or Title IX, visit UMBC’s Human Relations website. 
• The photos above are from the Monument Quilt. For more information, visit their website.