It was important to me that it is men who stare intently at the moderator’s missing legs. The phenomenon of the male gaze, as theorized by Laura Mulvey, shapes not only just fictional heroines on the screen, but it also shapes the tangible world. In this scene, the male gaze becomes the very thing we ourselves are watching. Its presence carries the weight of symbolic violence—a violence that doesn’t always stem from conscious intention but rather emerges from deeply internalized cultural stereotypes. Within this context, the woman becomes an object to be looked at, a figure inherently vulnerable and often left unprotected against both symbolic and physical forms of oppression.
Our culture vastly follows male visions of the world. The fact that menstrual products must be purchased at all reflects a male-centric system. So does the cosmetic surgery industry, the entertainment world, and tabloids that viciously critique women for either gaining or losing weight.
The “right” of the male gaze—to linger over, consume, or recoil from a woman’s body—amplifies the sense of threat. Statistically speaking, a woman can never know whether the look will end there or not.
A worker looks into the camera. He’s found something strange and calls over two colleagues. One of them insists it must be a prank and tries to convince the others to stop “playing games” and just clean it up—implying they must have staged it themselves. The other workers explain they have nothing to do with it. Eventually, he accepts the possibility that they are not pretending and might be telling the truth. Confused, disoriented, and intrigued, they all extend their gaze toward the thing (into the camera).
Legs, for most people, are the basic tools of movement and self-determined action in the world. In Hollywood, they are framed to highlight female beauty. In striptease, they are often the first part seductively revealed. Feet or legs are one of the most common male fetishes. So what does it mean when the moderator loses this part of herself? Or, conversely, what happens when this body part exists on its own, taken out of context, immobilized?
There are mirrors where you wouldn’t expect them. The soles of shoes move through the world, pointed downward, rarely seen. They are meant to support us. Fragile mirrors offer no such support. What they do offer is reflection, glare, surveillance, and a returned gaze. They may be clean or smudged, distorted or blinding. They reflect reality, but they are not reality itself. Mirrors can hypnotise.