When Jennifer Siebel Newsom discovered she was pregnant with a girl she was forced to pause and think: What kind of chance did her daughter have in a world of boob jobs and Britney?

The result is Miss Representation — Newsom’s documentary that examines the lack of agency and power felt by women — which she attributes to massive media bias.

Early reviews of the film, which was picked up post-Sundance by the Oprah Winfrey Network, are mixed: many media outlets criticize Newsom's heavy-handed mix of personal narrative with grave statistics (the director intersperses interviews with descriptions of her own battles with anorexia, low self-esteem and hinted-at sexual abuse). Others take issue with the film's suggestion that, if not all, then most media images of female sexuality fit in within the misogynistic mindset of the television reel which plays throughout the film - young stars with breasts bared, hips strutting, eyes vacant. 

But, there's no question that what the film gets right works, especially when it comes to Newsom's personal interviews with high school students.

"Nobody cares about female intellectuals, it's all about the body — not about the mind," says Ariella, a high school student, speaking in a voice so earnest and frustrated it just about breaks your heart.

As a teenager running for a post as California's Youth Governor, Devanshi Patel found that her colleagues and voters focused on her dress and appearance, "not outward shows of sexism, but little things," she said. "I thought, you know, we're better than this - it's like I'm another Hillary."

Almost more shocking is the kind of celebrities and careerists, including Dianne Feinstein, Nancy Pelosi and Rachel Maddow, Newsom gets  to come clean about their personal views and experiences of gender bias. (Admittedly, being the wife of California Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom must have helped her score these big names.)

To have a women or a minority in office, "you have to have a kind of psychological breakthrough," says former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, in the film. "Can Americans see a woman in that position? When it comes to women I think we still have a little ways to go."

"Everyone keeps saying well things are getting better - well they're not," said Geena Davis. The statistics Newsom gives match up: Just 10 percent of film protagonists are female, news stories covering women occupy less than 20 percent of coverage, and in four years as Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi has yet to grace the cover of a major national magazine (John Boehner's had four.) Indeed, Davis' short lived television drama "Commander in Chief," Newsom's subjects argue, was one of the only positive images young women have a woman in power. (Perhaps Newsom missed Alison Janney's impeccable tour as C.J. Cregg on Sorkin's 'The West Wing.')

It's a familiar story, I've lived it. Fresh out of college, in my early 20s, my first professional newsroom gigs coincided with the infamous 2008 election. Bright eyed and eager to report, I watched breathlessly as Newsom's montage of election scenes played out in real time — the "ditzification" of Sarah Palin, the inexplicable and complete loathing of Hillary Clinton, the punditry, the dizzying "iron my shirt" debate.

More shocking: the same voices echoed subtly in my newsrooms. Regardless of politics, intellect, or gender, my colleagues - journalists I respected and admired - bristled at the sight of these women in the pilot's seat, and lashed out in ways that were never concretely expressed in their coverage.

Newsom tasks government legislators and the CEOs of media conglomerates to lead the charge against these sorts of biases, but in my position I feel the same responsibility. As the editor of Sonoma Patch, I make an executive decision on what stories we cover, what angles they take and, ultimately, what makes it on the front page.

So do all the Sonoma county Patch editors, all of whom happen to be women. Between the four of us, we've covered stories on teenage mothers, uncovered immigration scandals and, after the death of a young Rohnert Park girl, led the conversation on texting while driving legislation. Not to mention throughout their careers, my outstanding colleagues have won national press awards, dominated the typically machismo cops beat, and served two military tours in Iraq. I'd say these are good role models for young women.

In Sonoma, we're lucky: When I write a story I often have to call Sonoma's mayor (a woman), our school district's superintendent (a woman) or the county supervisor (also, a woman).

But that doesn't mean we're immune to gender bias here. “It’s so true," said Mayor Laurie Gallian, who sat next to me during the filming, wiping away tears as the credits rolled. (This is not a reprise of "Hillary-cries-'08," there was nary a dry-eye, male or female, in the audience.)

Recently, I mentioned to a source that I'd be attending Newsom's film. "Oh, yeah, I hear she has a little student film playing," he replied casually, then asking if I knew when Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom would be arriving at Hopmonk Tavern.

Newsom, who is in her late 30s, is not a student, though she does hold an MBA from Stanford. If the film preaches anything, it's the dangers of modifiers like "little" and "student," which matter when they are attributed to the work of female professionals - they form a mental barrier in the public sphere that is the very definition of the "glass-ceiling."

"I don't know how we rise above it," states Margret Cho, in a moment of cinematic poignancy, after describing her turn to anorexia to lose weight at the demands of producers before her sitcom was replaced with "The Drew Carey Show," ("because he's so thin," she chides).

Luckily, Newsom has some answers. "This is more than a film, it's a call to action," says Newsom, who has organized a social campaign alongside the film. The film's website lists ways to take action (including writing op-eds) and provides a media education guide.

Let's hope it works, for the sake of all our daughters yet-to-be.

Disclaimer: This piece represents a personal opinion in reaction to a screening of Miss Representation, which aired on Friday, April 8 at the Sonoma Int'l Film Festival. It does not represent the editorial view of Patch.