Netflix’s Griselda isn’t actually a feminist icon

Sofia Vergara’s narcotics queen is molded in the image of man – and really, Netlifx’s Griselda can’t be without them.

“I’m Colombian, I’m a woman. I’m a mother, I’m an immigrant. I have always been someone who wanted my own money, my own job, and my own things. Like I feel like I don’t need men,” Sofia Vergara stated in a recent press conference for her new Netflix series. All of the listed attributes tie her and drug lord Griselda Blanco together with a neat bow, but how true is any of this for the latter?

In truth, we’re never going to know the reality. This is the same woman who not only outwardly intimidated Pablo Escobar by his own omission but also remained reclusive after her deportation from the U.S. in 2004. Outside of her inner circle, no one would really know what she was like. However, one thing is for certain – the world she built for herself was aided, abetted, and made all the better by the presence of men.

In Griselda, what we see and what we are told is happening have two different outcomes. The image of Blanco that series creators Eric Newman and Andrés Baiz have in their minds’ eye is a fiercely independent woman, who has no need for a guy in a man’s world. The version we see on screen begs to differ, reliant on male family, friends, and acquaintances to discover her true self-power. In essence, it could be said that Griselda isn’t actually a feminist icon at all.

Griselda: A strong, not independent woman

After watching Griselda, the distinction is clear – Blanco is certainly portrayed as a strong woman, just not an independent one. In the beginning episodes, viewers see her flee to Miami after the death of her second husband, which later transpires was committed by her after an abusive marriage. Aiming to make her fortune in the Miami drugs trade, Griselda schmoozes, leans on, and becomes affixed to a network of seemingly helpful men, eventually lifting her up to be the cocaine titan fitting of her legacy.

From her favorite hit man to her closest confidante, to her son and eventual third husband, everyone closest to Blanco is a guy. Operating in the industry she does, it’s almost to be expected – yet Griselda is also building a network of young women to do her “dirty work” for her. They make up the bottom of the pyramid, getting the closest to danger but remaining a low priority. In fact, you could say Griselda’s treatment of them reminds us of something we’ve seen before, acting like that one boyfriend we’d rather forget.

When push comes to shove, and life turns against Griselda, men bail her out. When she wants to get her foot in the narcotics door, men are there to guide her path to glory. They are simultaneously her friends and her allies, ultimately leading her ‘independent’ self to be shaped exactly in their image.

The Patriarchy fuels Griselda’s fire

Netflix

Being strong while staying connected to the male gender isn’t a bad thing, but it does hugely dampen the argument that the fictional Griselda Blanco can be held aloft as a feminist figure to be proud of. As the above suggests, she uses the Patriarchy to her advantage, propping it up instead of actually knocking it down. In fact, it could be said that without the Patriarchy, the stoic, no-nonsense, successful drug lord that we know Blanco wouldn’t have been able to exist. 

If Griselda were truly a pioneer for other women to enter a debauched and highly illegal industry, her relationship to them – and to herself – would have been completely different. The definition of feminism itself is “the advocacy of women’s rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes.” In Blanco’s world, equality doesn’t exist – the men pull rank, and that’s only when she’s not pulling the wool over their eyes. 

It’s unsurprising that Griselda is a woman shaped and dictated by men, just as much as it’s unsurprising that she doesn’t truly support the women in her organization. Life is full of players and pawns – and where it works for her, she operates in both roles. Sure, as executive producer Eric Newman remarks, Blanco is “different,” “strong,” and “relatable,” but strength doesn’t become her weakness – her unwillingness to change does.