'Landman' Could've Been Great. Instead, It's Just More Sexist Bullsh*t.
The show sells fantasy. I lived the reality. And I’m not staying quiet about it.
→ Read the full essay on PROVOKED
Editor’s Note: Off-Script—the why, what, and oh sh*t moments behind this article.
I couldn’t shut the hell up about Landman.
I tried. I really did. But every scene felt like a slap from someone who’s never met a real woman in this world.
I’m an oilman’s wife. The real kind. Not the one swanning around in stilettos and emotional vacancy.
A real oilman’s wife is a logistics officer and an emotional first responder, not a poolside extra. Our husbands do dangerous work in places that can kill them; they make decisions that hit like a gut punch when the phone rings at 2 a.m.
The women in those expat compounds were engineers, teachers, lawyers, artists. Smart as hell. Capable. Whole. And watching Landman, you’d never know we existed.
Because once again, the women aren’t people.
They’re props.
Sexual scenery.
Orbiters.
Every scene built for the male gaze, not the female reality.
I expect more from the men with the pens—and the budgets. A man this successful, this powerful, should be able to write at least one woman who doesn’t exist just to be f*cked, saved, or silenced.
I wrote this piece because I was furious—and because no one else could. Because women like me are done watching ourselves flattened into background noise.
Because if you’re going to profit off our lives, you’d better at least get the damn truth right.
I have not watched the show. But after reading your article, I have no interest in viewing it. Thanks for sharing your perspective.