I have a confession to make: I’m remarkably bad at taking up space.
Despite being the outspoken, proud nerd in my academic life, despite my efforts to voice my opinions and ask questions in class, despite confidently holding liberal views in conservative environments— I’m acutely self-conscious about it all. For instance, I don’t hesitate to challenge prejudice in a history lecture, but the moment I stop speaking, a wave of embarrassment washes over me as people react to what I’ve said, often reinforcing my self-perception as a “liberal feminist killjoy.” On public transportation, I try to become invisible. I avoid asking for help at all costs. Like everyone, I occupy physical and intellectual space, but I’m consistently anxious about doing so.
I deeply dislike being disliked, and it’s a well-known fact that many people disapprove of women who attempt to claim space for themselves (rather than passively sharing space with a man). Society, in general, isn’t thrilled with the idea of women being prominent— a problem exacerbated for women of color or those identifying as LGBTQ+. Meredith Graves, the lead singer of the punk-feminist band Perfect Pussy, stated it perfectly: “We’re taught from birth to erase ourselves… there’s all this language that wants women to not be visible.” For a woman to confidently take up space and be proud of it? It often feels revolutionary.
This is precisely why, when I first watched the movie What’s Up, Doc?, I was completely captivated. Beyond its sheer comedic brilliance (featuring one of cinema’s most extended and chaotic car chase scenes), Doc stars the iconic Barbara Streisand as Judy Maxwell, a brilliantly clever, albeit accident-prone, woman who is always ready to take up as much space as possible. Throughout the film, Judy instigates numerous traffic incidents, clobbers an FBI agent with an exotic sculpture, rattles off definitions of words like “decorum,” elaborates on igneous rock classifications, and constantly bails out her wonderfully absent-minded partner in crime (and love interest), Howard Bannister. In every scene, she effortlessly shifts the spotlight from Howard to herself. She is utterly fearless in her pursuit of what she desires.
Throughout much of the movie, Judy’s primary objective is to persuade Howard to leave his conventional fiancée, Eunice, for her. Admittedly, this isn’t the most traditionally honorable or feminist goal for a female protagonist— Doc would certainly not pass the Bechdel test. However, I excuse Judy’s somewhat conventional focus because of her methods— she is assertive, direct, and boldly takes charge of various situations to achieve her ultimate aim. Consider the scene where she impersonates Eunice at a dinner party Howard is attending. As Judy captivates the host and impresses her fellow diners with her vast knowledge of Emerson, it becomes evident that she has become the center of attention, with Howard fading into the background. His bewildered expression contrasts sharply with Judy’s sharp intellect, foreshadowing their future dynamic— a partnership that isn’t just equal, but one where Judy is often in control. It’s important to remember that Doc was released in the 1970s, a time when the concept of female independence from men was just beginning to gain momentum. In that era, a woman might have had some personal autonomy, but for her to dictate terms to a man would have seemed outlandish to many. Furthermore, the fact that a female protagonist from this period could be both independent in her choices and content with her unmarried status is incredibly empowering. While societal progress has made it somewhat easier for women to exist without male validation of their actions and thoughts (for example, husbands are no longer required to approve their wives’ birth control), the societal pressures on women—even in today’s world—that suggest we need male approval remain potent. I grapple with this frequently in 2023, so I can only imagine the challenges Judy would have faced.
Judy is intelligent—to the point of intimidating others—and remarkably forthright with her plans, which inevitably earns her a few adversaries during the movie. However, the more typical reaction to her from other characters is sheer bewilderment as they try to understand this eccentric, alarmingly intelligent woman. Howard also falls into this category, but Judy appears unconcerned. She is aware of her eccentricity and embraces it, perhaps recognizing the peculiar power it grants her. This is what I admire most about Judy: she takes up space and is indifferent to others’ opinions of her.
I, on the other hand, deeply care about what others think of me. A lot. And recently, I’ve been shrinking myself to gain others’ approval. I claim to admire Judy daily, but I could definitely use more of her nonchalance in my own life. Although, I acknowledge that literally imitating Judy Maxwell might not be the best idea— driving cars into the San Francisco Bay and getting into skirmishes with the FBI doesn’t appeal to me, nor is it particularly likely to happen. It’s also possible that the movie’s exaggerated absurdity serves to distract from Judy’s confidence— or perhaps it aims to make her independence and intelligence seem less attainable by surrounding it with comical, improbable events. Nevertheless, channeling her attitude the next time I feel insecure about speaking up, raising my hand, or simply asking for something I need could be beneficial. While I recognize that What’s Up, Doc? is purely fictional (when was the last time you heard about a geologist stealing an ice-cream cart?), I believe that Judy’s incredible confidence is achievable in reality. Women confidently taking up space shouldn’t be confined to the realm of movies.
