Marney White

Opinion contributor

Fearing that it promotes or condones rape culture, multiple radio stations recently banned the 1944 Christmas song “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”

On "CBS This Morning," John Dickerson defended the bans, saying the song is "triggering" a negative reaction in people. "These are people who've been through an experience. That's pretty powerful," he said.

Co-host Gayle King disagreed: "I think you have to look at the intent of the song, and when you look at the intent, it's — to me — a very flirtatious back-and-forth between the two of them."

Meanwhile, some critics of the ban argue that the #MeToo movement is to blame for the public overreacting to the classic song, and that so-called liberals are being overly sensitive to an innocent flirtation.

As a liberal feminist who specializes in women’s mental health, I have spoken and written about violence against women. But the lyrics to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” are not about coercion of sexual activity; rather, the lyrics are a progressive step toward sexual liberation. Let's take a closer look.

'I ought to say no, no, no, sir.'

Our heroine is not saying "no" to an overly aggressive man. What she is saying is, “I know I should say no, but really, I want to stay.”

Her family will be suspicious. People will talk: the neighbors, her maiden aunt with the vicious mind. Everyone else has ideas about how she should behave. They tell her what time to be home. They tell her she should not drink or smoke cigarettes. If she stays, her reputation will be sullied.

Read the lyrics:Here are the lyrics to 'Baby, It's Cold Outside,' the Christmas song facing a radio ban

Never mind that it’s freezing outside and that she does not have a coat. Everyone would prefer that she walk home in the cold and dark, because the alternative is that she could stay out and enjoy herself. And enjoying herself would be improper. Ladies did not do that in 1944, certainly not alone. Above all else, ladies needed to be home at a reasonable hour. Ladies did not cavort with men.

'At least I’m gonna say that I tried.'

She has a response ready when there’s talk tomorrow. She recognizes that there will be whispers against her, or "at least there will be plenty implied," and she is planning out her damage control.

At no point does she say, “I don’t want this.” She says, with unraveling conviction, that everyone else will have a problem with this. She goes through the list, starting with mother and father, and decreasing in importance when it comes to her reputation: the neighbors, her sister, her brother and the maiden aunt.

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The aunt, importantly, receives the only personal descriptor in the entire song: This is her maiden aunt with a vicious mind. The fact that the aunt is unmarried in the 1940s is also important: There were few things more stigmatizing for women at that time.

For evidence of this, recall the 1946 holiday classic "It’s A Wonderful Life." At the apex of the film, our beloved George Bailey learns every horrible thing that would have happened to his family and friends if he had never existed: Old man Potter would have owned the entire town; the pharmacist would have poisoned a child; brother Harry would have died in childhood and never had the opportunity to save American troops in World War II. But the very worst and most horrifying thing for George to learn? It was about his wife, Mary. The angel charged with convincing George that the world is better off with him alive tells him: “You’re not gonna like it, George. She’s an old maid. She never married!”

In the 1940s, women condemned to single life because not enough men were returning from battle was considered a major negative consequence of troops dying in World War II. What does this mean for our heroine? Upon reflecting upon the absurdity of caring about her bitter aunt’s opinion, she asks for another cigarette. Good for her.

'Maybe just a cigarette more.'

As a liberal feminist professor in public health, I should never applaud someone for smoking. But it is worth mentioning that for women in the first half of the 20th century, smoking was frowned upon, not for health-related reasons, but because smoking was a luxury reserved for the men folk.

The women who defied gender stereotypes by smoking faced moralistic scorn. Their character was questioned; they were viewed as “loose” or “fast.” When women opted to smoke, especially in public, they were placing a toe in the men’s world, they were boldly challenging social norms, realizing they would face public scorn, and choosing to light up anyway.

Those norms about the acceptability of women smoking started to change around World War II, and smoking as a feminist statement has waned since. Even so, the sexual slurring that occurs when women engage in gender nonconforming behaviors is something that persists today.

'Say, what's in this drink?'

Unfortunately, there are some who argue that the lyrics reflect rape culture. The line “Say, what’s in this drink?” could conjure up images of roofies and other rape drugs that had yet to be invented in the 1940s. Or, it could simply reflect that she is drinking and enjoying the alcohol — something that was also a no-no for women who wanted to protect their reputations.

While some people view the song to describe a struggle of sexual consent, that is a misinterpretation of what is really happening. What we are witnessing through “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is not an uncomfortable scene of a man aggressively urging a woman to stay over despite her objections. It is not a predecessor to #MeToo.

What we are hearing is a woman’s internal struggle, as she determines that she is strong enough to face the public ridicule that will follow when she chooses to defy social norms.

This song describes a woman’s conflict over her desire to do something progressive, while anticipating certain criticism from her family and community if she does so. Fortunately, the song ends on a cheerful note, when she appears to decide to stay over for the night — or at least for a bit longer. It is a decision made for her own personal gratification.

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is a song ahead of its time — released a full 20 years before the sexual revolution for women — and it celebrates a feminist taking control of her own sexual choices. The only reason to ban the song is to pit progressives against conservatives. Speaking for one liberal feminist, I will continue to appreciate the song for the anthem that it is.

Marney White is an associate professor in the School of Public Health at Yale. Her work focuses on women’s health. Follow her on Twitter @MarneyWhite_PhD.