#an original run black barbie that was designed by a black woman for black girls with afro-centric features

[searenbound]

Mother let me infodump about Barbie and I’m very pleased about it.

[thebirdandhersong]

Fairy tale retellings! because I couldn’t help myself (under the cut because I got carried away and remembered my fairy tale retelling phase from middle school........ oh boy)

Cinderella 

Cinderella (2015 Disney live action): beautiful beautiful BEAUTIFUL (the music! the script!! the Hope! the costumes! the dress! the gentleness at its heart! the overall design and the colours!) (I still believe it’s the best live action re-adaptation they’ve come up with so far) (then again they DID have one of the Rogue One writers and Kenneth Branagh--both of whom understand story AND fairy tales--on the team, and possibly the best combination of actors and costume designers)

Cinderella (Disney animated movie): like a dream. Can’t remember it that well because I haven’t watched it in over ten years, but I remember that I loved it

Cinderella, the Rodgers & Hammerstein musical featuring Laura Osnes and Santino Fontana: Laura’s Cinderella is so lively and hopeful and bright and affectionate and I Love Her!!! The script is also surprisingly funny, and the little changes they made (like the fairy godmother being an old beggar woman in the village, the subplot with her stepsister, the scene at the ball where she suggests that they should all be kind to one another, the fact that the prince is called His Royal Highness Christopher Rupert Windemere Vladimir Karl Alexander Francois Reginald Lancelot Herman (HERMAN!) Gregory James....... iconic) added rather than detracted from the themes they chose to emphasize

A Cinderella Story: possibly one of my favourite films. I loved the fact that they knew each other before the ‘ball’. Loved the way the fairy tale was ‘translated’ into the 2000s. The friendship was strong with this one. I had the best time watching this movie. (Dress-wise, Hilary Duff’s dress is my least favourite, but that’s a minor quibble, and is also due to the fact that it has Lily and Laura’s gorgeous fluffy ballgowns to contend with, and that’s not fair competition)

Persuasion, by Jane Austen: does it count?? The way I see it, Persuasion is like Cinderella gone wrong (we discussed this in class, and my prof called Lady Russell a fairy godmother who means well but fails her protege before the story even begins. We talked about Anne’s ‘Cinderella’/makeover moment taking place over a longer period of time, about the ‘evil’ stepsisters, etc. etc. I’m not entirely sure I agree with every single comparison he made, but he made some Very interesting points).... at least the first time :)

Cinder, by Marissa Meyer. Oh, the images!!!!! Marissa Meyer is WONDERFUL at them. You wouldn’t think they’d translate well into a futuristic sci-fi (almost steampunk) world, but she did it SO brilliantly (the slipper! the ‘dress’! the whole family situation!)

Rapunzel

Tangled (Disney animated movie): an absolute joy. Rapunzel is an Ariel-like character who has hopes and dreams of her own, and I love how warm and vivacious and endearingly transparent she is. The dance scene is so, so lovely. (I stand by my opinion that very few little went right with Disney’s fairy tale retellings after Tangled.)

Cress, by Marissa Meyer: once again. Images. I can’t believe she managed to pull Rapunzel-in-space off so well. (Plus she’s a hacker, and such a sweetheart!!)

Beauty and the Beast

Beauty and the Beast (Disney animated movie): Amazing. Gorgeous. Brilliant. The buildings and the music and Belle (Belle, my darling!!) and the darker, more Gothic feel to the art and the design...... Yes

Beauty, by Robin McKinley: knocked it right out of the ball park, right through the atmosphere, right into outer space... The language is so lush and atmospheric, and even though I knew roughly what was going to happen, I loved every moment of it. She puts a special emphasis on family and on human connection and I Loved that so much.

Rose Daughter, by Robin McKinley: also gorgeous!!!!! Beauty is still my favourite of the two, but this one was also a gem. (Again: the emphasis on family and sisterhood!!!)

Beauty and the Beast (the Broadway musical): Susan Egan’s voice is SO lovely. And Home deserved more than just an instrumental reference in the 2017 version.

The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Princess of the Midnight Ball, by Jessica Day George: the Best. The sisters are easier to distinguish, the changes/things she added (the war, the queen’s past, etc.) make the story even more interesting, and Galen is fantastic (courteous, kind, brave, AND likes to knit?? NICE)

The Barbie movie: I loved it when I was a little girl (it is also Muffin-approved!)

The Princess and the Pea

@fictionadventurer​‘s Wodehousian one :) which is an absolute delight. Every once in a while I remember it and then can’t stop smiling

The Goose Girl

The Goose Girl, by Shannon Hale: the Best. And by the Best, I mean the absolute Best. Her writing is so beautiful and her characters are so real and distinctive. The worldbuilding is fascinating. It’s so simple and so beautiful, and is near-perfect as a retelling and as a novel. The rest of the Bayern series is also wonderful!!

The Little Mermaid

The Little Mermaid (Disney movie): can’t remember it very well, except for the chef who wanted to cook Sebastian and also Ariel’s very cool sisters.... the music and Ariel’s character are lovely :)

The Little Android, by Marissa Meyer: genius. The first time I read it, I cried furiously. What does it mean to be human?? Marissa Meyer loves to talk about this in her other books (through malfunctioning robots, androids, werewolves, etc.). And the conclusion she comes to is always the same (and always done so beautifully): it’s about love and sacrifice (and tbh even though she’s talking about this through robots and werewolves, she’s got a point!!! When you act with love and self-sacrifice, you reflect the character of the Maker and His love and self-sacrifice, which is what makes us in that moment the most human--or at least human in the sense that that’s what we were made to be and to do towards our neighbours and enemies)

Ponyo (Studio Ghibli movie): this counts, doesn’t it?? A film that is an absolute joy through and through. It doesn’t completely stick to the original fairy tale but it also talks about compassion, kindness, and love as a choice

The Princess and the Frog

The Princess and the Frog (Disney animated movie): can’t remember it very well, but Anika Noni Rose has a fantastic voice, and I loved Tiana’s practicality, optimism, and kindness

The Prince of the Pond, by Donna Jo Napoli: can’t remember it either (read it in third grade) but basically it’s about how the prince turns into a frog and starts a family with another frog (the story is told from her perspective). I do remember that the ending made me so sad, though

Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty (Disney movie): can’t remember it at all either, except for: 1) Once Upon a Dream (a brilliant song) and 2) forget pink or blue. I liked her grey dress the most

Spindle’s End, by Robin McKinley: the story was told in such an interesting way (the animals! the way she wrote about love and protecting the people you love and self-sacrifice in familial and platonic relationships!) with Robin McKinley’s beautiful style

East of the Sun, West of the Moon

East, by Edith Pattou: I was obsessed with this book in elementary school. Obsessed. I kept rereading it over and over again because I just loved it so much. It’s been a few years since I’ve read it, but I can remember certain scenes (Rose entering the ballroom for the first time, the white bear’s hulking figure in the doorway, the architecture of the hall where she washes the shirt, her fingers running over the wax, the reunion scene) so vividly as if it had been a movie instead of a book, or if I’d actually been there, experiencing what Rose was experiencing

Orpheus and Eurydice (which kind of counts)

Hadestown (the Broadway musical, the original cast, AND Anais Mitchell’s original concept album): I’ve talked about it so much I probably shouldn’t even start slkfjsdl;kfjlk; I just wanted an excuse to mention it again

Tam Lin

Fire and Hemlock, by Diana Wynne Jones: I loved it when I first read it but I was so confused and so fascinated by it.

The Snow Queen

Frozen (Disney animated movie): no (insert heart emoji)

And contemporary(?) books that are considered modern classics, if not modern fairy tales (depends on how you look at it, really):

Peter Pan

Peter Pan (Disney animated movie): a childhood favourite!!!

Peter and the Starcatchers, by Dave Barry: the whole series is so much fun (and they’re among some of the funniest books I’ve read). This one serves as a sort of prequel to Peter Pan, but it’s safer to say that Dave Barry reimagined the whole story.

Peter and the Starcatcher (Broadway play adaptation of the book, which is a reimagining of the original Peter Pan..... yeah): the source material is incredibly funny, so naturally the play adaptation makes you laugh until your sides feel ready to split (I mean!! You have Christian Borle as Black Stache, Adam Chanler Berat as Peter, Celia Keenan-Bolger as Molly..... they’re all brilliant) The script, the way the cast makes use of the set and props, the perfect comic delivery....... love it

Finding Neverland, a musical adaptation of the movie (the A.R.T. production with Jeremy Jordan as James Barrie): the music is so good, and the way they write about the value of looking at the world through the eyes of a child?? of seeing the beauty in everything?? of hope and imagination and wonder?? If it weren’t for the way it handles adultery (even emotionally cheating!) and divorce :( but Laura Michelle Kelly is absolutely enchanting, and the script is also incredibly funny and heartwarming

Tiger Lily, by Jodi Lynn Anderson: a twisted fairy tale... it was quite disturbing at times, but it was also beautiful and heartbreaking. It’s a darker take on the story, which I tend not to like (at all), but the way it explored Tiger Lily and Peter was quite interestng

The Wizard of Oz

WIcked, the Stephen Schwartz musical--I haven’t read the book: as far as retellings-about-the-villain-of-the-original-story goes this one is my favourite. It is another twisted fairy tale, though, and there’s a constant undercurrent of doom and dread, even in the motifs Stephen Schwartz uses... the ending is not completely happy, but the music is FANTASTIC (Mr. Schwartz also did The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Prince of Egypt!!)

Alice in Wonderland

Alice in Wonderland (Disney movie): another childhood favourite... I also haven’t seen this one in over ten years, but I can still remember specific scenes very clearly in my head

Alice by Heart: a musical about a girl called Alice Spencer whose coping mechanism (quite literally) is Alice in Wonderland. She knows it by heart (again. Literally) and she dives into the world as a form of escapism (LITERALLY. There’s even a song at the end where the characters acknowledge how unhealthy this is). There’s a lot about growing up, losing a loved one, learning to let go... about self-deception and grief and the control one has over one’s life (unfortunately it IS subtly antagonistic towards Christianity at times)..... i do wish that writers didn’t have to treat sexual maturity as the most prominent/interesting part of coming-of-age stories, though. The characters, the set and lighting and costume design (BRILLIANT, by the way!!!!)... all wonderful. But the strangely sexual references can be a bit uncomfortable. (Really!! You can tell a coming-of-age story WITHOUT that stuff, you know!!!!!)

That Disney Movie directed by Tim Burton: wouldn’t recommend. Alice doesn’t need to be a warrior. (At ALL.)

Would also like to mention: Princess Tutu :)

[brancadoodles]

Hey you two! Thank you for messaging me! Sorry if I won’t answer you two individually, it’s just that you two bring similar points I’d like to use to say even more stuff bc I can’t shut up, apparently.

Lady with Caribbean family whose dad plays Overwatch: that’s so cool, i tried to show my mom how to play too (she chose Mei, because chubby) but didn’t have a lot of time to try. I hope your dad is happy with Baptiste!! He seems like a very Dad character, being a defender and a healer! DAD MATERIAL Y’ALL!! THE DAD ROSTER IS GROWING!

For starters, I just wanted to make clear to everyone that I’m not a black woman - far from it, in fact - and I’m not Caribbean nor do I have many connections to the region. So any black person, especially black women, and MOST ESPECIALLY Caribbean people/people from Caribbean descent, has a deeper knowledge of what I said in that take and I do not intend to take away any place of speech. I just thought it was convenient to at least introduce my thoughts from the position of someone who clearly remembers the 2010 Haiti earthquake (many of your were too young then) and who knows game development to a higher extent than most of the OW community. Also, before I got crazy with the gamer community acting mega entitled over stuff - more on that later.

That said, I gotta say a few things under the cut:

Fans - especially fans from demographics that have little or bad representation in mainstream games - have the right to want a character that represents their image, culture, and values, and that celebrates them. But no one is entitled to such characters when the game is made and controlled by a private capitalist company. The SJW (a word I’ll use as a shorthand for people who defend diversity and respect in the community bc I personally love the idea of us being warriors) OW community is usually pretty understanding, but there are many corners that seem to demand the addition of x or y type of character in the main cast. And Blizzard is not a pizzeria: they try to cater to general cries of the community, within viable time, but game development is a freaking complicated business with lots of flaws and variables.

For instance: the Overwatch creative team at the beginning was, in its majority, male and American white. Michael Chu is of Asian descent, and I know through stories that Blizzard has many female employees and is quite accepting and chill, but it’s still a major multiplayer US-centric Triple A game, and they wanted to cater to what is perceived to be the biggest public for those: young-ish white males. That ties in with their earnestness to try and make a diverse game with a diverse and respectful cast, but their probable lack of understanding of what exactly the public wanted at the moment - or in the next year, because - and I’ll make it bold to drill this into your minds - it takes from 6 months to one year to develop a new character from scratch until they’re added to the cast. Fucking understand this once and for all - game pipelines are very complicated. Again, this is not a pizza place - they have a lot of testing and planning to do and changing the pipeline to add one character before the other is unhealthy for the production.

Therefore, what sparked the creation of Baptiste was, with almost all certainty, the claims for black Mercy as shown in the Overwatch Artbook released around mid-2018. I can’t affirm what they were thinking when they discarded that concept in favor of barbie angel Mercy (ilu blondie), but my guess is that they thought it tied better with both the Valkyrie and the Guardian Angel concepts they were developing, as well as adding a woman of “conventional European beauty” (uuugh) so girls would be represented without rippling the waters too much - remember, she was a release hero, and they had no idea how well Overwatch would fare then. BUT when the community said they would WELCOME a black man as a nurturing support figure (*cough* dad), they reimagined "Angelo” as Baptiste.

Could they have released black Mercy boy back in 2016? Maybe, but 2016 isn’t 2018, and Mercy was developed way farther back than this. They wanted the game to work first, and they probably thought a lot of what they did was already super diverse (and it was).

Which brings us to a very important and often ignored point: Brands aren’t friends. Blizzard, as much as its team tries to be inclusive, is a privately owned company and Activision-Blizzard just laid off 800 workers this month alone. Corporations, as they are conceptualized and existing in the neoliberal panorama of the 2010′s, are billion-dollar socioeconomic psychopaths. That doesn’t mean that Jeff and the OW team is inherently bad or seeking profit - honestly, game workers don’t make that much money in comparison to the administrative positions, and Jeff is very much just a designer -, but it does mean that they are held by the company straps to generate enough capital to keep the machine running, PLUS profit for the execs.

Add to that the fact that the senior members of the OW team have started working in the 1900′s/2000′s, when gAMeR CuLTuRe was being sedimented, and so a lot of the previous concepts of what should be done in a big budget game to appease to the “main audience” are still at play in their minds: simply put, they aren’t millennials, and our culture changes a lot from one year to another. When they release Baptiste, the community is already claiming for a black woman stranger than ever, but remember that it wasn’t THAT blatant in July last year before Hammond (who was a passion project in the works for 4 years) and Ashe (who was an original character for the short film the team fell in love with and decided to add) - it kinda started picking up after Moira and esp Brigitte.

Does that leave them out of the hook? No, of course not. Keep complaining. They’ve already proved they were listening with Baptiste here. I seriously believe that one of the next 3 releases will be a black woman like we are all asking, because they’re seeing that’s something the audience wants. Black people are historically entitled to fair and plentiful representation all around, especially in mainstream media, but it’ll hardly happen in current capitalist culture unless it’s proven to be profitable. No company serves its community, it serves itself using the community - the value said community draws from it is what us, consumers, consider important, but no brand is required to be loyal to us. It could be that Jeff and Michael are begging to the producers to let them add a black woman from the start, and the producers say their hands are tied because their research say black women don’t play games and players don’t care - we’ll never know. We can only tell Blizzard “Hey, Baptiste is really great, big leap you made here, next time black woman okay? We need a black woman.”

(To be completely fair, they should hire black women to the creative team just as is, and make the team even more diverse (I may be wrong but I don’t see a lot black people, not even a lot of Latino people, when the team is seen). Making diverse people part of the team doesn’t mean we’ll get so-and-so character, but it adds a flavor that American white males in their 30s and 40s don’t have. But that’s another discussion for another day)

Now, to wrap this up, a message for gamers who say “you’re complaining too much there’s no diversity are you blind half the cast is non-white” oh yea and ALL NONWHITE PEOPLE ARE THE SAME RIGHT???? WE ALL THE SAME. I’M BRAZILIAN I NECESSARILY AM FROM RIO AND PLAY FOOTBALL (it’s football) AND SAMBA. BLACK MEN ARE THE SAME AS BLACK WOMEN AND BLACK PEOPLE ARE ALL THE SAME EVERYWHERE. YES. OF COURSE. THAT’S HOW DIVERSITY WORKS THAT’S PRETTY MUCH THA go get a Viper shot up your ass in Capture the Flag it’s not my place to educate you on capital D Diversity, because diversity means there are a lot of takes in play. Diversity isn’t “nonwhite”, like white is a default. IT ISN’T.

So yea now I’m off to draw shippy art of Baptiste with everyone and family art too my God I love him so much you have no idea.

Also, brands aren’t friends, destroy the establishment, be aggressive but respectful, and the best fans are the ones who want the property getting better and make it better through their own creativity. Peace.

[youbetterworkcovergirl]

2020 Books

 Kiss Me In New York

Goth-icky

The One That I Want

Flirting with Boys

Sixteen

Mooncakes

Every Moment After

Parkland

The Liar’s Daughter

Teeny Tiny Toady

41 Reasons I’m Staying In

The Gorehound’s Guide to Splatter Films of the 1980s

Forgotten Bookmarks

101 Greatest Baby Boomer Toys

The Addam’s Family

Hex Wives

Peek-A-Bruce

Humpty Dumpty Lived Near A Wall

Peace

Fred’s Big Feelings

Avengers Scarlet Witch

The Modern Horror Film

50 Fashion Designers You Need To Know

Strange Planet

Just Shopping With Mom

Back To The Future

Run Hide Fight Back

ET

The Worrier’s Guide to Life

Squad

Black Widow Forever Red

Ghostbusters: The Ultimate Visual History

Mid-century Kitchen 

Horror!

Black Hollywood

Long Way Down

Getting Lost With Boys

Hearts, Strings, and Other Things That Can Be Broken

Marvel Studios: The First Ten Years

The Cozy Life

The Little World of Liz Climo

What We Keep

I’d Rather Be Reading

The Hygee Life

Heavy Vinyl

Sabrina The Teenage Witch

Vintage Party Games

Scary Scary Halloween

The Hidden Art of Fucking Up

Grace and Style

The Joy of Hygee

Georgie to the Rescue

The Bees in Your Backyard

The Art of Zootopia

Marvel Zombies

Girls With Sharp Sticks

Hippies

Sad Animal Facts

Avengers: Infinity War Prelude

The Princess Saves Herself In This One

Defending Jacob

Chain of Gold

The Graveyard Book Volume 1

HausMagick

Magnolia

Godzilla Aftershock

Anne Frank’s Diary

The World of It

How To Die Alone

What Would Wonder Woman Do?

The Big Book of Halloween

Stephen King on Film

The War Bride’s Scrapbook

10 Blind Dates

The Art of Toy Story

Vintage Living

The Returned

Dynamic Dames

Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Book Towns

The Boy Next Door

The Bad Girl

The Best Friend

The Confession

Lost Ballparks

College Weekend

The Third Evil

I Really Didn’t Think This Through

Home Before Dark

Scream Jennifer Scream

D2

D3

The Nightmares on Elm Street 4 and 5

Jason’s Curse

Wes Craven’s New Nightmare

Nightmare Inn

The Pool

The Attic

We Speak In Storms

Aftermath

Vacations from Hell

Dear Heartbreak

Agnes at the End of the World

Coyote’s Kiss

Pugtato

Pioneer Woman Dinnertime

Haunt Your House For Halloween

The Art of Barbie

The Art of Making Memories

When Less Becomes More

Into The Streets

The Witch Who Went On A Walk

The How To Handbook

The Art of Sleepy Hollow

We Will Rock Our Classmates

The Avengers

You Are Here

The Art of Pixar

A Ghostly Good Time

The Art of Pocahontas

 Halloween Trick and Treats

Extreme Pumpkins

One Day at Disney

Artful Halloween

Disney’s Who Who

Sloth Went

Southern Folk Medicine

Global Bohemian

Milk Bar Life

Martha Stewart’s Organizing

Adventurous Eaters Club

A Very Vintage Christmas

The Illustrated Herbiary 

I Really Didn’t Think This Through

Have Yourself A Vintage Christmas

Slothilda

The World of Chas Addams

100 in Days in Photographs

Clown In A Cornfield

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

It’s Raining Bats and Frogs

Halloween Is…

The Halloween House

Haunted House

Trejo’s Tacos

Lady Lovely Locks

Tricks and Treats the Ultimate Halloween Book

Penguin Problems

The Ultimate Guide to Supernatural

The Haunted

Wes Craven’s Last House On The Left

Harry Potter Film Vault Volume 5

Harry Potter Film Vault Volume 2

Harry Potter Film Vault Volume 1

Supernatural The Official Cookbook

The Wizard’s Cookbook

The 13 Days of Halloween

Break An Egg!

Screams and Nightmares

The Cool Factor

The Phantom Prince

Woodstock

Disney During World War II

One Was Lost

Bookish and the Beast

Bart Simpson’s Treehouse of Horror

Maps of the Disney Parks

Friends Forever

Your Beauty Mark

I Left The House Today

Tales From The Crypt #2

The Origin

Kind of Coping

Grimore

Make Yourself At Home

Totally Sweet 90s

The Minibook of Minigolf

A Kiss Goodnight

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

The Buffy Chronicles

Ghosts Went A Floating

Escape Goat

Fright Flicks

The Spirit Almanac

Album of the Damned

The Occult, Witchcraft and Magic

Goodbye Summer, Hello Autumn

Monsters You Should Know

Prey

Alice in Wonderland A Visual Companion

Fantastic Beasts Movie Magic

Mythology

The Art of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

Monsters

Tales for A Halloween Night

See You on Sunday

Cosy

Runaway Pumpkins

The Walking Dead Official Cookbook

The Art of Disney Costuming

Christmas Wishes

The Monster on the Block

The Witches’ Handbook

Harry Potter Film Vault Vol 6

Bookish and the Beast

Forbidden Hollywood

Hungry Hearts

Self Care for the Self Aware

Perfect Little Angels

The 100 Thing Challenge

Thriving As An Empath

The 13 Nights of Halloween

100 Ideas That Changed The World

100 Years of Hollywood

20th Century Fashion

The Missing Season

I’m a Therapist and my patient is the next school shooter

the 100 simple secrets of happy people

entertaining with disney

a literary holiday cookbook

fangs

men to avoid in art and in life

no fuzzball

1000 tattoos

the art of rise of the guardians

100 places every woman should go

mayhem

doll junk

countdown to christmas

clue vol 1

the art of walt disney

100 photographs that changed the world

501 most notorious crimes

the making of the crimes and grindlewald 

[rayliur]

Little Fires Everywhere; Everything I Never Told You

“To say that Celeste Ng’s novels have changed my life is an understatement; her works have saved my life.”

by Ray Liu

Follow me on Twitter for more: https://twitter.com/rayliur

No, I’m not being dramatic. They really did.

I first discovered Miss Celeste Ng through Twitter. I believe one of my friends had retweeted her and her tweet made it to my feed. At the time, I wasn’t an avid reader; I barely picked up a book (and this was in 2016). Fast-forward three years, Ng had inspired me--through her two amazing novels--to write my own novel. But my novel isn’t the focus of this blog post.

See, my whole life as an Asian American was atypically strange. I thought it was just me, an individual who didn’t know how to navigate through life. Somewhere inside me longed to see someone--a successful someone--who represented me in this country. I was born in Manhattan, lived in Brooklyn throughout my childhood and early adulthood, and only recently moved to Queens. But I was born here. In America.

But I never read a single book in all my twelve years of school that was written by an Asian American. And as a Chinese-American boy in his teens, I thought that I could never write a book or even be part of the English/literary realm--because no one would want to listen to my stories. Because I am Chinese.

Of course, after high school, and during my journey of self-discovery, I came across works like Joy Luck Club ... that was it. So scratch off that s after “work.” Just work. I was young at the time, so that was not a book I paid attention to or spent time trying to read it or understand it.

There just wasn’t enough authors who looked like me or understood stories like mine.

Over the years, I’ve dealt with issues--personal issues. And they all stemmed from my oddly dysfunctional family. I’ve tried so many ways to express my feelings toward them and about them, but none of them worked. At least not to the extent I thought they would. And I couldn’t just tell them how I felt at the time because, in Chinese households, you just don’t talk about feelings. In fact, therapy is taboo. I screamed inside every day and night--they just didn’t understand what I was going through; that my identity here in this country felt diminished, on the brink of disappearing.

To say that I never thought about death is a lie.

Then I came across Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng.

“Ng,” I thought. “Interesting. An Asian-American author. Wow.”

It was at the Amazon Bookstore on 34th that I picked up the book. I was so excited. I had heard of Celeste Ng on Twitter, but never put two and two together until I googled her on my phone that day at the bookstore, and sure enough her bio popped up, including her Twitter page which I had already followed. I read the back cover. “Death!” I was immediately hooked.

The book opens with Lydia, who is dead. It’s not even a spoiler, because the whole story surrounds this incident--how Lydia’s family deals with her death and how her death reveals all the secrets that, in time, consume the family until everything falls apart. The title is elegantly designed. The choice of “I” instead of “She” or “They” had me thinking about the overarching frame of the novel. “I” applies to every character--not just one. Soon, I was swept into the seventies, where Ng takes me through a conservative society that frowned upon interracial couples, marriages, and relationships.

The first scene in this novel that stood out to me--made me rage and cry in joy--is the pool scene where Nathan (the oldest son) is bullied by white kids in a game of Marco Polo. “Chink can’t find China,” says one of the white kids at the pool (Ng 90). Ng unapologetically exposes racism in her novel by using Nathan as a target for these bleach-blond, ignorant white kids. I was Nathan. I had been in his shoes and reading this scene made me cry--not because it triggered horrific memories, but because I’ve finally found an author who gets it--who isn’t afraid to tell the whole truth, raw and with zero sugar coating.

Then there was the theme of death and suicide. Just to be clear, I’ve only thought about death--never did I ever try to harm myself in any way. Just like Lydia. SPOILER ALERT! Skip this paragraph if you haven’t read this book and are planning to read it in the near future. Lydia hates her life; she was always the quiet girl who got good grades (the stereotypical Asian) simply because she was afraid her mother would run away from her family, again. Of course, Lydia had nothing to do with Marilyn leaving. Needless to say, Lydia’s parents really fucked her up, mentally. Relatable? Fuck yes! Reading proses and passages from Lydia’s POV felt so real to me, like I had somehow channeled myself into her head. At the end, when she decides to challenge herself--rowing herself out to the middle of the lake--by swimming back ashore, she gave me hope. That, shit happens but you just have to choose to live and know that things will get better. Lydia dies of course, because she couldn’t swim and thinking you can swim is very different from knowing you can swim.

Not only does Ng break stereotypes in this novel, she bends the old narrative of Chinese Americans in the U.S. and points the fingers back at trashy white folks--all the while doing it with grace and perfection.

Little Fires Everywhere, however, had little takes on the Asian narrative. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t make a powerful statement through the lens of Asian Americans and racism toward Asian Americans. I’ll get to that very soon. This novel opens up with the Richardsons’ house burning down. And yes, this story focuses on a (presumably) white family--very privileged and very perfect in white standards. It takes place in Shaker Heights, Ohio, a town that was built on order and strict city-community planning. The streets are always clean and the color of houses all share one Home Depot swatch palette. Then comes the wild card character Mia Warren with her young daughter Pearl. Ng doesn’t specify Mia and Pearl’s race or ethnicity--but photos of the cast had been released by Hulu (due to the novel being picked up as an original series on the platform--congrats, Celeste!)--and I believe Kerry Washington is going to play Mia. With that little tidbit in my head, I read through the novel picturing Mia Warren as a black woman with a mixed-race daughter. It’s a great dynamic, actually. Mia inadvertently becomes the mirror that reflects all of Mrs. Richardson’s (and her family’s) pretentiousness and overly saturated life. That’s the synopsis. 

SPOILER ALERT (again)! Skip this paragraph if you wish to read this book in the near future. Like I said earlier, there’s an Asian-American component to this novel. While drama ensues between the Richardsons and the Warrens, a subplot underlines the novel. Bebe Chow, a Chinese woman from Hong Kong (I believe it was HK), abandons her few-month-old child May Ling in front of a fire station. The city claims the orphan and hands her over to the McCulloughs, who could not have children because of infertility. Bebe puts her life back together again and decides she wants May Ling back--who now goes by Mirabelle, a white name given to her by a white family. Toward the end of the novel, a large chunk of it is dedicated to the court case that decided May Ling’s fate: to go with the McCulloughs or be returned to her biological mother. During that legal battle, Ed Lim comes in (Bebe’s attorney). Ed Lim is my favorite character, so my review here is clearly a little biased. Ng creates Ed Lim to be someone who breaks the stereotype of Asian men. Ed Lim is “six feet” tall, “lean and rangy” (Ng 258). Wow. Ng is a literary god. As Bebe’s attorney, Ed’s job is to win the case of course. He questions Mrs. McCullough regarding how she plans to raise a Chinese baby girl. McCullough replies that she would learn Chinese herself: but she doesn’t even know the difference between the variety of Chinese dialects (Shanghainese, Toisan, Mandarin, just to name a few). Then, McCullough shoots herself in the foot by telling him that she buys Mirabelle a lot of toys--namely a teddy bear. Oh, no--not just any bear. Because Mirabelle is Chinese, McCullough got her Chinese baby a fucking panda bear. I laughed so hard at this point. Ng is a genius. But what’s most important and to be taken seriously in this scene is when Ed Lim asks if Mirabelle has any dolls, you know, because most girls in the nineties had wanted to play with Barbie dolls. McCullough, confident and chest-puffed, answers him. “We buy her dolls ... one of them closes her eyes when you lay her down...” (Ng 261). This was when I knew exactly where Ng is going with this: the eyes. Ed Lim asks McCullough what the color of that doll’s eyes is and she says, “Blue” (Ng 261). He proceeds to lecture her, telling her that the Barbie company does not manufacture Chinese or Asian dolls. There is no doll that represents May Ling. Ah, America. Fucking up children of color since 1776. And Mirabelle would lose touch with her heritage as she grows older. A young impressionable girl without any understanding (real understanding) of her identity is dangerous. Just when I thought Ng was planning on drilling through her novel with the focus on a white and black family, she crashes through the fabric of her story with THIS! Only a true legend and storytelling extraordinaire can do things like this.

In conclusion, Celeste Ng is my hero. Her powerful proses articulate the issues of racism and cultural stereotypes in America, and the [inner] human psyche--all through the telling of interpersonal and small-scale stories--that majorly impacts the world we live in.

I hope you all get a chance to read both of her books. I would definitely recommend starting with Everything I Never Told You. I love her writing style in both novels. The debut novel interchanges between past- and present-tenses, which is refreshing. And Little Fires Everywhere is written in all past-tense, which helps the reader focus more on the story.

So like I said. These books saved my life. Ng gave me relatable characters that I absolutely cannot find elsewhere and plots that had me white-knuckle through both books. I truly hope that schools across the country add at least one of her works into their curriculum because it is THAT IMPORTANT.

Below is an excerpt from Little Fires that I tweeted earlier. It’s pretty self-explanatory. It entirely captured my current situation with my familial issues. And thank you Penguin Books for retweeting it!

(p. 294, 2019 ed.)

(From Twitter)

Thank you, Celeste! Thank you, Penguin, for picking up her works to publish.

Thank you for reading my thoughts on these two works.

Now, off I go, back to writing my own novel.

Ray

[neverending2012]

My Journey to You Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

SUMMARY: Cooper and Latonya celebrate her birthday. Mercedes, Sam, Finn and Rachel go on vacation in the Smoky Mountains with their kids.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Sex scenes, language

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

One year after Cooper and LaTonya get engaged

LaTonya snuggled up to Cooper as they lay together under the covers. The orange pink light of the sunrise shined through the partially closed blinds. She kissed the old gunshot wounds on his chest: several, round indentations with puffy scar tissue, and one long scar that ran down the middle of his torso. She never asked him what happened. She only thanked God that he was alive despite everything he had been through. Cooper opened his eyes and smiled down at her, lifting her chin.

"Happy Birthday," he said, kissing her lips.

"Thank you," she said, sitting up, grabbing the sheet to cover her bare breasts. Cooper stilled her hands and pulled the sheet down, revealing her breasts again.

"I love looking at you," he said as he sat up, while stroking her breasts, "You're beautiful."

LaTonya kissed and hugged him, resting her head on his broad shoulder. He held her and they sat in silence, their arms wrapped around each other, enjoying the tranquility. She would never grow tired of his admiration; he constantly touched and praised her body. Cooper's words and touches put something indescribable in her heart, elevating her higher, and whenever she looked in the mirror; her reflection sparkled and she felt joyful.

"I love you," she said.

Cooper kissed her and soon she was on her back, spread open for him, and he filled her, gently caressing her legs, as he slid inside her. It wasn't long before they came together, shaking and moaning, and afterwards, he shifted to the side and hugged her close to his chest, stroking her hair.

"I want to give you your present."

"I thought you just did," LaTonya said.

"That was only one of them."

"What are the others?"

"Wait and see," he said getting out of bed, and not bothering to put on his robe, LaTonya admired his nude muscular physique as he walked out of the room. About five minutes later, he came back with a rectangular box wrapped in shiny white paper that was painted with movie poster of Goldfinger, but she immediately noticed something different. Instead of Sean Connery and Honor Blackman superimposed on top of a gold painted hand, it was LaTonya and Cooper. LaTonya wore a long beige trench coat just like the main character. Her hair was a beautiful, fluffy Afro and Cooper stood behind her in a black suit, with his arms wrapped around her waist.

"I can't believe it," she said, gazing at the picture, "It's you and me. I can't..."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. How did you - "

"An artist in London made it for me. "

LaTonya kissed him.

"I can't believe you did all of that to wrap my gift."

"It's fine if you tear the paper. I also have the original painting too. Shipping was delayed."

"I can't wait to see it."

"You always said you wanted to be a Bond girl."

LaTonya carefully unwrapped the gift and despite what Cooper said about tearing the paper; she didn't rip it. It was simply too beautiful to destroy. She took off the lid of the glossy white box and underneath the layers of white tissue paper was a Barbie doll that looked just like LaTonya. She was curvaceous with raven black skin and kinky hair that was styled in an Afro. Diamond stud earrings sparkled in her ears and a gold bracelet was on her wrist. Her lips were cherry red and a diamond-studded purse was slung over her shoulder. She wore a form fitting red silk evening gown with a halter top and long skirt with a slit up the right side exposing the most wonderful detail of all: the doll had a prosthetic limb just like LaTonya and the detail was intricate, replicating the exact design of her leg. LaTonya began to cry.

"She looks like me!"

Never in her life had she ever had a doll that looked like her. And the prosthetic leg was what did her in. When she was a little girl, she was tempted to cut off the bottom portion of her doll's leg, so that it looked like her. But knew that her father paid good money for the doll and that would anger him. Cooper hugged her.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? My God Cooper, how did you... I love it."

She cried as he held her and then she pulled away and picked up the doll.

"This is gorgeous."

"Look inside the purse."

She did as he asked and found a tiny black handgun and an alias card. She laughed and kissed him.

"Are you going to give me my first undercover assignment 007?"

"Perhaps," he said, kissing her, "You forgot a few things."

"Did I?"

He pushed aside another layer of tissue paper revealing a stack of outfits sealed in plastic. The first one was a white cream bikini with gold belt buckle in the center of the bikini bottoms and a silver knife hung from a holster on the right side; it was a replica of the bikini that Ursula Andress wore in Dr. No. The next outfit was a long-sleeved, burnt orange and gold maxi dress, with an abstract floral print design complete with a gold choker. Jane Seymour wore that dress in Live and Let Die. Underneath this, was a copy of the turquoise chiffon gown that she wore to Sam and Mercedes' wedding; she picked it up and looked at him.

"Why did you - "

He held her hand.

"You wore that the first time we danced together."

LaTonya was speechless. She leaned over and kissed him. The last outfit was her running gear. Purple compression tights, hoodie and even her Flex blade prosthetic were a part of the ensemble.

"We watched the sunrise," he said, "Remember?"

She placed the outfits back in the box and hugged Cooper tight. There was nothing to say. Who else would remember such a tiny detail as that morning she challenged him to open up as the sun rose in the horizon?

They began kissing again and soon they were making love once more.

PRINCESS

"Thank you for doing this," LaTonya said as Cooper changed lanes to take the next exit off the free way. It was early afternoon and they were driving to see her father.

Cooper said nothing. He reached over and squeezed her hand. LaTonya closed her eyes. That morning the nurse said he was in good spirits. She hoped his mood stayed that way.

When they arrived at the Glenview Retirement Home, Cooper parked the car; LaTonya sat in her seat, not moving until he nudged her.

"LaTonya?"

"Can we stay here for a bit?"

"We said we would be here by 1:00. It's 12:55."

She smiled at Cooper's rigid punctuality.

"I need a minute, ok?"

He stared at her.

"Ok."

She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him. He opened his arms and she snuggled into the embrace.

"I don't know what it's going to be like in there."

"He'll be happy to see you."

"I hope so."

Cooper doesn't answer her and LaTonya knew he was struggling with what to say. They sat in the car a while longer until LaTonya felt ready to go inside. She took her compact out of her purse and touched up her lipstick. They exited the car and held hands as they walked into the retirement home. Cooper squeezed her hand, giving silent support for what was to come. Her rainbow fluorite crystal engagement ring, shined in the sunlight and she smiled, thinking about the upcoming wedding. Upon opening the heavy glass doors, LaTonya smelled the familiar scent of disinfectant. Her stomach turned. She wished this place was less clinical and more "homey" but after looking through countless facilities, she felt that her father would receive the best care in this one. They went to the receptionist's desk near the entrance.

"We're here to see Edward Randall."

The receptionist, a friendly, freckled faced woman, smiled and checked the appointment in the database.

"Ah, yes, LaTonya, his daughter," she said staring at the computer monitor, she glanced at Cooper, "And you are?"

"He's my fiancé, Cooper Anderson," LaTonya said.

Cooper only nodded and stared at the woman, not returning her smile, she blushed and said:

"If you'll both show me your IDs."

After their IDs were verified, the receptionist gave them each a visitor badge and they were permitted to go up to the fifth floor to her father's apartment.

When they got to her father's apartment and rang the bell, a short man with a mustache dressed in nurse's scrubs opened the door.

"LaTonya, I'm so glad you're here," he said, his dark eyes staring at her.

"What's wrong?"

"He won't eat. Maybe you can encourage him."

LaTonya glanced up at Cooper and he squeezed her hand again.

"Hi, I'm Billy, Edward's nurse," he said extending his hand to Cooper.

The two men shook hands and Billy led them inside.

"He's been up since 5:00 this morning. He had his bath and watched TV but he refuses to eat anything. He says he's on a diet. Come on, he's reading in the den."

They followed Billy to the den where Edward was curled up on the brown leather couch wrapped in the bright red knitted afghan that LaTonya made for him, he was reading the Chester Himes' novel, If He Hollers Let Him Go. He looked up from his book and smiled at them, his smooth brown face was wrinkle-free except for a few crow's feet around his hazel eyes; his white hair was cut close.

"Hi Princess!"

"Hi Daddy," she said.

"Is that your new math teacher?" Edward said, pointing at Cooper, "You said you were getting a new teacher. Did he walk you home?"

LaTonya swallowed and looked at Cooper, who said:

"How are you feeling Mr. Randall?"

"I don't know," Edward said, "I got to lose weight. Training is coming up," he held his arms open, "Princess give me a hug. Those bullies bothering you again? Is that why he walked you home?"

LaTonya hugged her father. Every time they came to visit, Cooper was someone different; she stopped correcting him a long time ago.

"Daddy, you have to eat."

"I'm going running tonight in the park."

"It's a shame to let the soup go to waste, Mr. Randall," Billy said, lingering in the doorway, "It's your favorite, chicken noodle."

"My favorite is tomato."

"Very well. I'll make tomato," he said and left the room.

After he left, Edward said: "Don't let them say stuff about your leg, you hear me?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Now, how was school?"

"You should be proud of her," Cooper said sitting down on the love seat, "You have a wonderful, intelligent daughter, I'm honored to know her."

"She got that from her Mama," Edward said, "She loved you so much. And you loved her, remember how you tried to dig her out of the ground?"

"Daddy, you have to eat."

"You said she can't breathe, and you started digging in the mud, it was raining that day, you had on your little red dress, what happened to that dress?"

LaTonya tried not to cry.

"It doesn't fit any more."

But Edward wasn't listening.

"Rained so hard that day. You got your dress dirty. I loved your Mama… why are you wearing that ring?"

"It's a gift."

"We can see stones like that at the museum. Why don't we go?"

"You're a good father. Mr. Randall. LaTonya can hold her own in the world, she's very loving and kind. Bullies don't bother her any more and she's an excellent runner," Cooper said.

Edward stared at him and smiled.

"Thank you so much. It's not easy with just the two of us but I love her with all my heart. Princess, come closer and let me see that ring."

LaTonya got up from the couch, immediately missing the warmth of Cooper's hand, and she knelt in front of her father, who took her hand, holding it tight, he gazed at the ring.

"Beautiful ring. So many colors. It suits you Princess. I'm proud of you. Those doctors cut you so many times; even a grown man like me doesn't know how you endured that pain, but I was crying right along with you and I still am. You're special, baby girl. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy," she said, clinging to him, tears falling from her eyes.

Edward looked over at Cooper.

"You watch after her. It gets dangerous walking home from school."

"I'll always protect her. You have my word."

"You're a good man."

LaTonya pulled away from her father and gazed at Cooper, who also had tears in his eyes.

"Yes, he's a very good man."

"I'm glad he's walking you home. I can't do it any more. My foot hurts sometimes."

"It's ok."

Billy came into the den carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, a small green salad, and a glass of ginger ale.

"Say, that looks good!" Edward said, staring at the meal.

"Are you going to eat?" LaTonya asked.

"Yes, I'm starving. What took so long for lunch?"

LaTonya kissed her father's cheek and watched him eat his lunch until he was done. Afterwards, Billy gave him his afternoon pill. Soon he was asleep and she and Cooper left.

As they walked out of the building into the bright sunshine, LaTonya paused on the sidewalk, clutching Cooper's hand; he hugged her close and they stood there a long time, simply holding each other, until all of her tears were shed.

HAPPY TRAILS

"Come on, guys, we're almost there," Mercedes called over her shoulder as they walked along the Deep Creek Trail to get to Toms Branch Falls. They were hiking in the Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina. The weather was warm, but not too hot, and with the cool mountain breeze, and shade from the yellow birch and sugar maple trees; their green leaves rustling in the wind; it was a perfect day for hiking. Mercedes carried Rosy in a bright red canvas baby carrier strapped to her belly. The toddler's kinky, curly blonde hair was pulled into a single Afro puff positioned in the center of her head; every time she smiled, Mercedes was reminded of Sam's wide mouth, and Rosy also had his sparkling emerald eyes. She pointed and laughed at the yellow-billed cuckoo that flew overhead.

"Yes, that bird is flying high," Mercedes said and Rosy nodded, her Afro puff bobbing with each movement of her head.

Sam came addling up beside her, he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. Jake was strapped to his chest in a purple carrier, his coal black straight hair was mussed. He smiled when he saw his mother and Rosy.

"He wanted to look at a moth."

"Where's everyone else?"

"They're not too far behind. Abby and Lucy were taking pictures of some flowers. Matt is trying to get Finn and Rachel to stop arguing."

"They're at it again?"

"Yeah."

Mercedes sighed.

"We should probably wait for them to catch up."

They stood and waited and a few minutes later, Lucy, Abby and Matt, came walking up to them with Finn and Rachel trailing not too far behind. Rachel was throwing up her hands and Finn was shaking his head.

"They won't stop fighting," Matt said looking exasperated, "Can't you and Uncle Sam do something?"

Mercedes kissed the top of Matt's head. He was going through his "I hate the barber" phase as Rachel put it and his brown hair hung to his shoulders. He looked like the son of hippies in his tie dye t-shirt and cargo shorts.

"We'll try sweetie."

"I hear the water," Abby said, "We're close."

Lucy showed Mercedes and Sam the pictures that she and Abby took with her phone.

"We should send these to that nature site," she said.

They agreed with her and as they scanned through the pictures, Finn and Rachel finally caught up to them.

"Sorry," Finn said, "We had to stop for a moment."

Rachel opened her tote bag and took out a bottle of Advil and Gatorade. She shook out four pills into her hand and swallowed them, then took a long drink of Gatorade before returning everything to her bag. She looked pallid and a light sheen of perspiration was on her forehead and cheeks.

"Would you like to sit down for a while?" Mercedes asked.

"No, I'm fine."

They continued walking and when they arrived to Toms Branch Falls, everyone was amazed at the magnificent view. The waterfall cascaded over slabs of dark brown vertical rock formations, resembling a stairway, descending in a steady gush of white water and ending it's path in a collection of foam in the creek below. They stood near the green moss covered trees near the creek banks and took pictures. Due to safety precautions, nobody ventured into the water, but the children, Sam and Finn all threw rocks into the creek, listening to the pleasant plunk they made when landing in the water. Thankfully, Rosy and Jake were content to stay strapped in for now. After a while, everyone was hungry so they wandered away from the creek and found a few empty benches where they unpacked their lunches and ate under the trees that loomed above them, their long branches reaching for the blue sky above.

Rachel and Finn only spoke to each other if necessary. Matt, Lucy, and Abby sat together on a bench next to Sam and Mercedes and chatted together as they ate. The forest smelled like freshly toiled soil, earthy and rich, there was no silence, only soft sounds that you had to pay attention to, otherwise you would miss them. The firm pecks of a woodpecker assaulting the bark of a tree, the crunch of the woodchips and stones underneath your feet as you walked along the trail; the running water of the creek, gliding over rocks. Mercedes loved it all, and she was especially thankful to be sharing this with her family. Sam gazed at her and they shared a long kiss; she inhaled his familiar scent of medicated lotion and Ivory soap, felt the plumpness of his strawberry Chapstick coated lips, tasting their sweetness. No matter where they were or whom they were with, Sam could make her feel like she was a teenage girl all over again, that flutter in her stomach would never go away. After they finished their sandwiches and water, it was time to head back to the car. Rosy and Jake fell asleep. Finn and Rachel kept their distance from each other, and opted to focus on the kids instead. Even with their discontent, it was a wonderful day.

SMOKY MOUNTAIN SUNRISE

Mercedes and Sam sat on the deck of their rented cabin and watched the sun rise over the Smoky Mountains. Sam held Rosy and Mercedes held Jake. The twins woke up hungry and fussy and after they were fed, they now they lay content in their parents' arms. Jake tried to take Mercedes' coffee cup from her, but she gently scolded him.

"No, Jake, this is hot."

"Hot," Jake said gazing up at her.

"Yes, hot."

Jake whined until Sam said:

"Look at the sky."

Jake stared at the golden sunrise filling the coral sky with yellow light and shining on the mountain peaks engulfed in a blue hazy mist. Rosy laughed clapping her chubby hands while Jake remained solemn, his mouth forming an O. A soft summer breeze blew over them, the fresh mountain air smelled sweet and pure. Mercedes looked at Sam who was kissing the top of Rosy's head and smiled at him; he glanced at her, and then leaned over and gave her a kiss on her full lips and she tasted the vanilla creamer he put in his coffee. He caressed her cheek and kissed her once more before pulling away because Rosy was tugging on his T-shirt, pointing to the sky.

"Isn't that pretty?" Sam whispered and Rosy clapped her hands again.

Jake snuggled up to Mercedes and she hugged him close; he loved to cuddle; he watched the sunrise with the much awe, resting his head against Mercedes heart; the thumping of her heartbeat soothed him. She ran her fingers through his silky hair and kissed the crown of his head.

After she and Sam finished their coffee, the twins wanted to get down from their parents' laps and walk around, so Sam and Mercedes took them for a walk on a short nature trail that led to a pond. They held onto to their parents' hands as they toddled along the trail, stopping every so often to pick up an object of interest like a shiny pebble or a wildflower. When they got to the pond, they held tight to each child's hand because they were eager to run off. The water sparkled under the early morning sunshine; and a few red and green falcons flew overhead. Sam and the twins threw pebbles into the water while Mercedes took pictures with her digital camera.

Sam sang silly songs, amusing both Rosy and Jake, who laughed at the odd inflections of his voice when he pretended to be a pig. Mercedes captured their laughter, smiles, and hugs; Sam never looked more beautiful to her; nothing but love shined around him and their children; she blinked back tears and continued taking pictures until they grew tired and walked back to the cabin.

Rachel greeted them as they entered the cabin; she sat on the couch with a mug of tea; her eyes were red rimmed as if she had been crying. Her skin was pale, and there were dark purplish circles beneath her eyes.

"You're up early," she said to them, a faint smile on her lips.

Mercedes nodded and walked over to her; sitting beside her she put her arm around Rachel and gave her a side hug.

"You feeling ok?"

"Of course."

Rosy and Jake went to Rachel and dropped a few pebbles on her lap, pointing to them, and smiling.

"See," Jake said.

Rachel patted their heads and set her tea on the end table.

"Those are nice pebbles."

"Everyone else still asleep?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Rachel said as the twins lifted their arms for her to pick them up and she obliged, giving them each a kiss on the cheek and setting them on the couch beside her, but they wanted to rest on her lap and they climbed onto her, hugging her and smiling. Mercedes shook her head.

"You two are spoiled rotten. Let Aunt Rachel have some peace."

"I don't mind," Rachel said.

Mercedes didn't press the matter, instead she said, "When the kids and Finn wake up, we should all go out to breakfast."

"Could we just eat here instead? Eating out can be… expensive," Rachel said.

Mercedes and Sam glanced at each other.

"Sure," Sam said.

Rachel sighed in relief.

"Thanks. Did you have a nice walk?

"It's beautiful outside," Mercedes said.

"I imagine it is. Thank you again for inviting us."

"You don't have to keep thanking us. I wish the others could've come too," Sam said.

"Maybe next year," Mercedes said.

Everyone fell silent after that. Rachel began playing with the twins, marveling at the pebbles they brought her. Mercedes went to the kitchen for a glass of water and Sam followed her. Once they were alone, he put his arms around her and kissed her, holding her tight. Mercedes could hardly breathe because his kisses overwhelmed her, his hand crept up her shirt, rubbing her stretch-marked belly that reminded Mercedes of a deflated balloon because of the sags and wrinkles; but Sam loved that part of her even more since she gave birth to "their miracles" as he liked to call the twins; he massaged her stomach, patting and squeezing it as they kissed; then his hands roamed upward toward her breasts and he tweaked her nipples through the cotton sports bra she wore. Mercedes was aroused. She kissed him back with the same passion he showed her and pulled away, taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs to their bedroom.

Once they were inside their room, Sam locked the door and the two made love; slowly and sweetly with Mercedes beneath Sam, her thick legs encircling his waist, their eyes never left each other. Neither spoke because all they needed was the touch of the other. Strokes and caresses. Deep kisses that lasted so long that they became lost in them. Sam buried himself inside her and she welcomed him, moaning at the wonderful feeling at being joined with this man who was her heart, life, and joy. Afterwards, they held each other, the warm sunshine on their bodies. Sam kissed her heart.

"Mine," he said.

Mercedes sat up and he did the same. They faced each other, their skin glistening with perspiration, Mercedes skin was a dark dusky brown that was even darker due to hours spent in the summer sunshine; Sam loved her skin, especially when she tanned; his skin now had a golden hue, but he felt it lacked the richness of the woman's skin who sat before him, gazing at him with all the love she carried in her heart; the ceiling fan whirred overhead, blowing air on them, cooling their skin. They held hands, staring into each other's eyes, their breathing patterns synched together, their chests rising and falling at the same moment; like one heart beating. Sam's brilliant green eyes held all his secrets and he kept nothing from her; she saw his strength and love for her and the twins; they were in his eyes too; he leaned forward and they pressed their foreheads together, feeling the great love between them.

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

At around noon, the kitchen was filled with chaos. Sam and Finn cooked brunch and the children helped by cracking eggs, stirring pancake batter and getting the ingredients as instructed by their fathers. Lucy towered over Matt who looked like a dwarf compared to his twin sister. They were now twelve years old and growing up too fast in Sam's opinion, he recalled how Finn cried to him on the phone when they were born, and now they were turning into adolescents. Abby was ten and Sam was as devoted to her as ever, she was taller and less "little girlish" and growing more beautiful everyday; she and Lucy were closer than ever, whispering and giggling together, sharing secrets not meant for grown ups.

Abby always wore the emerald locket he gave her on the day he married Mercedes, regardless of what she was wearing, overalls or a dress, that locket hung from her slender neck representing their bond as father and daughter; and Sam couldn't have been prouder. Matt was the odd man out, since his other cousins couldn't come on the trip, he was stuck with his girl cousins since Jake was too young to be that entertaining to him. Sam noticed him sighing as he opened up the packages of bacon on the table.

"Hey Matt, how about you, me and your Dad, go fishing at the pond later on? Just the three of us?"

"How come we can't go?" Lucy asked as she handed Abby another egg for the pancake batter, "I'm good at fishing."

"Because sometimes guys need to be with guys," Matt said, "Besides you and Mom are going to the spa with Aunt Mercedes and Abby remember?"

"Oh, that's right," Lucy said, and added, "But guys being with guys, isn't that sexist?"

"No sex talk," Finn said from the stove where he was frying sausage.

"Dad, I meant – "

Sam held up his hand.

"We'll talk later. Anyway, Matt wasn't invited to the spa."

"I don't want to go to some weird spa and put mud on my face," Matt said.

"It's a special mud," Lucy said, rolling her eyes, "And that' why we didn't ask you."

"It's still mud."

Abby put her arm around Matt.

"I hope you have a good time fishing, and when we get back, we can all go swimming."

Matt smiled.

"Thanks, Abby."

Abby reminded Sam of Mercedes in those moments when she made people feel better; she truly wanted everyone to be happy just like her mother.

After the food was finished, Mercedes and Rachel set the table in the dining room, and everyone gathered there to eat. The ceramic dishes were white with a picture of the Smokey Mountains painted in the center of each plate and the glasses had Mingus Mill stenciled onto each one in black Old English letters. The table was filled with platters of stacked golden pancakes, bowls of grits dotted with butter and a little cream, plates of crispy bacon and juicy sausage patties; and a casserole dish filled with fried potatoes and onions, and a glass dish brimming with fluffy scrambled eggs seasoned with dashes of salt and pepper. There was also a basket of fresh brochten and biscuits. Before the family dug into to their meal, everyone held hands, bowed their heads and Finn said the blessing:

"God, we give you thanks for the delicious food on our table, for the loved ones gathered around, and for you, who make it all possible. We are humbly grateful. Amen."

After a chorus of amens, the plates were filled, and the meal began. The twins sat in matching portable red high chairs; their blue and green striped Mickey Mouse bibs were fastened around their necks. Sam helped Jake eat tiny spoonfuls of grits and Mercedes tended to Rosy who was eager to have some pancakes and eggs; Mercedes cut up little pieces of pancake for her and mashed up the scrambled eggs before feeding an impatient Rosy, out of the two children, Rosy always had a bigger appetite. Rachel's phone rang in the middle of the meal; she glanced at it. Finn was annoyed.

"I thought you were leaving that upstairs."

"I forgot," she said as the phone rang.

"Who is it?"

"Aba."

Finn's face tightened and he said nothing. He took a bite of his pancakes. The phone stopped ringing and Rachel put it away. Then Finn said:

"I'm sick of your father calling."

"Finn – "

"You know what he wants."

"He's only looking out for us."

"Is that what you think?"

"Please not now."

"Yes, now. In fact both of them can go to hell."

"Aba and Pop aren't to blame for –"

"And I am?" Finn said throwing down his fork and rising from the table, "I'm not hungry any more." He walked out of the room.

Rachel hung her head. Matt and Lucy both looked as though they were going to cry. Abby looked at her cousins who were like her brother and sister and Sam could see that she hurt for them. Lucy whispered something in Abby's ear. Then Abby whispered something to Matt. The three of them stood up.

"May we be excused?" Abby asked.

Sam nodded, and they left, with Abby walking between them holding each of their hands.

Rachel sat there, gazing at her glass of water; a few tears fell from her eyes.

"I'm going for a walk," she getting up from the table.

Once she left the room, Mercedes and Sam looked at each other. The twins, oblivious to the tension, patted their parents' hands.

"Eat," Rosy said.

Sam and Mercedes fed the twins. When they were finished, they went upstairs, changed their diapers and put them down for a nap. They stood over the twins' travel crib watching them sleep and then quietly crept out of the room. They went downstairs and put away the food and settled in the den with cups of tea and a plate of rolls. Sam opened his arms and Mercedes cuddled into his embrace. The afternoon sky turned dark and a summer rain pattered on the cabin's roof.

"So much for fishing," Sam said.

"The rain will let up."

"No, I mean, I don't think Finn will want to go."

Mercedes laced their fingers together and squeezed his hand.

"He needs to cool down. I want to know what's going on. They've been fighting since we got here."

"Well I think – " Sam began and he stopped speaking when Rachel appeared in the doorway; her hair and clothes were wet from the rain.

"Hey, guys, she said, "Can we talk?"

"Sure," Sam said.

Rachel sat in the loveseat next to the couch.

"Finn lost his job. Then they cut my hours at the museum. We're having financial problems and we may lose the house. Aba and Pop want us to move in with them since we won't accept their money. Finn doesn't want to."

"Why?"

"He doesn't like them and they've never gotten along. My parents can be judgmental and they think Finn lacks ambition. Anyway, I think we should sell the house and start over. Finn thinks he can save the day. We've kept the bank at bay for now but our time is running out."

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry this is happening," Mercedes said, getting up from the couch and going to Rachel, giving her a hug, "Do you need anything?"

Rachel clung to Mercedes.

"We came on this trip to forget. I know it was stupid but… we wanted to act like a normal family. I haven't been feeling well either. I think I might be pregnant. I've been throwing up and I have these damn headaches."

"Oh, Rachel." Mercedes had noticed the amount of Advil that Rachel had been taking since they got to North Carolina; she figured she was stressed out from traveling.

"We can't afford a house. How can we afford a baby?"

"Have you taken a pregnancy test to be sure?"

"No, I've been too scared to."

"Does Finn know?"

Rachel shook her head.

"No, please don't tell him. I can't deal with his –" Rachel said and couldn't finish her sentence because she was overcome with uncontrollable sobbing.

Mercedes hugged her, smoothing her hair.

"We're family and we're here for you."

Sam had an idea.

"He can work for me. I've got more business than I can handle. And a lot of my clients are in Tennessee. I'd pay him a salary just like any other employee. It won't be charity." Sam said.

Rachel wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt.

"That's very sweet of you Sam. I don't know if Finn will go for it."

"Pride only goes so far."

"I know. My parents think he's being stubborn."

"I do too."

"If he agrees to work for you that still doesn't solve the house situation. We need the money now."

"We can give him a loan up front and then he can work it off by working for me and I'll give him a wage on top of that. It won't be charity."

"Sam I – " Rachel said and clutched her stomach. She stood up and ran toward the bathroom. Mercedes and Sam followed her down the hall. She barely made it and threw up in the toilet. Mercedes rubbed her back while Sam lingered in the doorway unsure of what to do.

"Oh, God," Rachel said and she threw up again. Mercedes held back her long dark hair as she puked again.

"Honey, take a few deep breaths."

Rachel held onto to the toilet.

"My legs feel numb… I can't feel. Why are they numb."

"We're taking you to the hospital," Mercedes said and looked over at Sam, "Go get Finn."

Rachel slowly stood up and flushed the toilet.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Mercedes said.

Rachel tried to walk out of the bathroom but could only take a few steps, before collapsing to the floor, her arms and legs began to twitch and she was sweating. She held her hands over her eyes.

"Make it stop. It hurts."

"What hurts?"

"I don't now. Everything. I can't –" She began to vomit again and this time it was streaked with blood

Sam dialed 911. Matt and Lucy came into the hallway and saw their mother convulsing on the floor and puking, crying out in pain.

Mercedes told them to get their father. Lucy ignored her and kneeled next to Rachel, grabbing her hand.

"Mommy, squeeze my hand. Can you hear me?"

Matt ran upstairs and moments later Finn came downstairs with him.

"Oh my God, baby," Finn said upon seeing Rachel lying on the floor.

Rachel looked at him and Lucy but her eyes didn't seem to focus and then she closed them.

"Numb," she said.

Finn held her. The paramedics arrived. Sam let them in. Abby, Matt, and Lucy stood near the stairs as two EMT's, who were muscular men in blue uniforms, lifted Rachel onto a stretcher.

"Has she been vomiting for very long?" One of them asked.

"About five minutes," Mercedes said.

They carried Rachel out of the house into the rainy afternoon with Finn following close behind them. Mercedes said to the kids:

"Get your jackets, we're going to the hospital."

Lucy threw her arms around Mercedes' waist and began to cry. Mercedes hugged the girl, consoling her. Matt stood in silent shock; his dark eyes solemn. Abby touched his shoulder.

"Matt?"

Matt hugged Abby. He didn't cry at first only held onto her tightly; and then the tears flowed from his eyes. Sam's heart split in two. He felt helpless.

"I'm getting the twins and then we can go."

He went upstairs and found Jake and Rosy sitting up in their crib, awake and well-rested from their afternoon nap. They looked up at him with big smiles, laughing, holding up their chubby arms to be held.

"Da," they said.

Sam picked up his children and sat on the bed, hugging them and kissing their fat, dimpled cheeks. He heard the sirens of the ambulance wailing in the distance. Rosy and Jake smelled like baby powder, soft and sweet, pure and innocent. He sat there holding them until Mercedes came into the bedroom.

"Baby, we should go."

"Schatzchen?"

Mercedes sat beside him, and gave Rosy and Jake a kiss and then kissed Sam's cheek.

"I don't know what's going to happen. But whatever it is; we have to be ready for it. The kids are waiting. They need us."

Sam nodded.

"Pray with me."

"Ok."

They bowed their heads and Sam said:'

"Lord, please watch over Rachel and her family. Her husband and children need strength during this difficult time. Please give Mercedes and I the courage, wisdom and strength to guide our family through this crisis. Amen."

Together they quickly dressed the twins and grabbed their diaper bag. Downstairs Matt, Lucy, and Abby waited by the doors, holding hands.

"We're ready," Lucy said.

"I didn't know she was that sick," Finn said to Sam while they sat in the waiting room, hoping to hear news of Rachel's condition, "I mean, she's always had headaches. But it was nothing like this, you know?"

Sam squeezed his brother's hand.

"I know."

"I can't lose her."

"Finn –"

"I can't."

"I'm sorry you're going through this."

"Me too. And I'm sorry for acting like a jerk on our vacation. Rachel and I are having problems."

"She filled us in. Why didn't you tell me you lost your job?"

"I like handling stuff on my own."

"You could lose your house."

"Damn, she really did tell you everything."

"She was hurting inside and she needed to talk."

Finn hung his head in shame.

"I let my pride get the best of me. I took my anger out on her. It was wrong and I didn't even notice her being sick. What kind of husband am I?"

"Rachel probably didn't know it was this serious either."

"It doesn't matter. I hurt her. We've been fighting for weeks. And to top it all off, I heard Aba and Pop telling her that I was a loser."

"They really said that?"

"Not in those words. Something about my average intelligence and lack of judgment… I don't know. It pissed me off. Besides, they've always looked down on me."

Sam knew that Rachel's fathers were wealthy and they always had a certain life in mind for their only daughter. Finn never quite fit into their vision.

"Regardless of what her parents think, Rachel married you. She wanted their help because she was scared for your family."

"I hate charity."

"Maybe so, but I would hate homelessness more."

"I'm scared, Sam. What's taking the doctor so long?"

"I don't know."

Sam wondered when Mercedes would be back with the kids. She took them to the cafeteria to get something to eat. They had been in the waiting room for over two hours. He was considering telling her to take the kids home and he would stay there with Finn, but knowing Mercedes, she would want to stay. Finally a doctor, who was only slightly older than Finn and Sam, and rather tall with a black beard, came into the waiting room and sat next to them. He held out his hand.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Ahearn," he said, shaking Finn's hand, "And I take it that you're Finn Hudson, correct?"

Finn nodded, "Yeah, and this is my brother Sam," he said nodding in Sam's direction.

"Nice to meet you both. I'm going to dive into it. Rachel has a brain tumor and it's serious. The medical term is glioblastoma, a form of brain cancer; the tumor is located in the cerebral hemispheres that control thinking, emotions, speech and movement."

Finn took a deep breath and exhaled. He didn't say anything for a moment then said:

"What do we do now?"

"She'll need surgery to remove the tumor and most likely follow-up treatments that may involve chemotherapy. I think you should see a specialist. He's one of the best neurosurgeons in the country. His name is Dr. Randall Jordan and he's located in Kentucky. Here is his information," Dr. Ahearn said, handing Finn a manila folder. This also includes Rachel's CT-scan and a prescription for the pain and nausea. I understand if you already have a doctor in your hometown, but Dr. Jordan is great and he has many years of experience."

Finn took the folder, his hands shaking, and a few tears trickled down his pale cheeks.

"Thank you."

"Rachel should stay here overnight so we can keep an eye on her."

"Ok."

"I'm sorry about all of this."

"Will she die?"

"For now it's too soon to tell. I urge you to see Dr. Jordan."

Finn didn't say anything. Sam shook Dr. Ahearn's hand.

"Thank you."

The doctor nodded and left. Sam put his arm around Finn.

"Mercedes and I are here for you, ok? We'll help you with whatever you need."

"I'm broke."

"I have a solution."

But Finn wasn't listening to him.

"Kentucky? How are we going to manage that? Hotels, doctor's bills, hospital bills…"

"Stay with us."

"What? I can't impose on you like that."

"Yes you can. You want to give Rachel the best care, right? Besides, we would love to have you and the house is big enough. I can give you a loan for your house and you can work for me."

"Sam, thank you but –"

"No buts. Stop thinking about your damn pride. Yes, Rachel's parents aren't exactly your biggest fans, but screw them. Your wife is sick. Matt and Lucy are devastated. This is about your family, not proving something to the world. You fell on hard times; it happens. I'm your brother and I love you. So, please, let me help you."

Finn embraced him.

"Thank you."

"We've always looked out for each other," Sam said, "And now is no different."

FACING THE STORM

Three weeks later

Mercedes sat in the kitchen drinking coffee while enjoying the silence in the house. The refrigerator hummed. The rooster clock ticked. Birds chirped outside the window as the sun rose in the horizon, golden and warm. She sighed, closed her eyes, and yawned. The twins wouldn't be up for another hour and she needed this quiet time to recharge. The cherry wood kitchen table was littered with big plastic blocks, baby bottles, and the remnants of an art project that involved construction paper, popsicle sticks, and silver glitter that was spilled on the table, sparkling against the wooden surface. The house was a wreck, but she was too tired to care. Then she heard footsteps. She turned around and saw Rachel standing in the doorway, her long white nightgown grazing the tiles of the kitchen floor; she was so thin, that her cheeks looked hollow.

"Rachel, you shouldn't be up. Remember Dr. Jordan said – "

Rachel shook her head and carefully walked into the kitchen and sat down next to Mercedes.

"I needed to get up. Just for a little while."

"Would you like some tea?"

"No, I just want some company."

Mercedes patted Rachel's hand.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Ok, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know… anything really."

"I'm working in the garden today."

"More tomatoes?"

"Oh yes, and cucumbers too. I can make that salad you like. You know, the one with the fresh corn and spring onions? You don't have to eat it, but it looks pretty on the table, you know?"

Rachel held Mercedes hand, squeezing it tight.

"Thank you."

They stared at each other and tears formed in Rachel's eyes. Mercedes nodded and kept up the inane chatter about nothing.

"And I'm going to the post office to mail a package to Aunt Josephine. I'm sending her a spice rack I got on sale at Marshall's."

"Sounds like a full day."

"Sam is helping Abby improve her butterfly stroke today."

Rachel picked up a lump of Play-doh from off of the table and began rolling it between her frail hands.

"When Aba and Pop taught me how to swim they told me not to be afraid."

Mercedes took a sip of coffee.

"Were you?"

"I was terrified," she said, smiling, "But I learned to swim. I remember them kneeling near the pool's edge yelling, "You can do it! And I still hear their voices, when life gets hard."

"They taught you to be strong."

"Yeah, but I'm not feeling all that strong right now."

"Have you talked to them?"

"Last night they called. They're coming back to Kentucky this week. I'm not sure that I want them to come."

"Why?"

"I love them very much. They gave me everything. I'm still their little princess. But they say stuff about Finn. It hurts him. And me. I love Finn he may not be what they think is a good provider, but he's kind-hearted, loving, and only wants what's best for us; he lost his job, that's happened to millions of people; he tried so hard to solve it on his own."

"Have you told them how you felt?"

"Yes, and they say they'll stop but then lo' and behold; a veiled insult here, a few choice words there and we're back to square one."

"I see."

"They're pretty coy about it. And they would never air any dirty laundry in front of others. It happens when we're alone. Yet, in their own way, they love Finn.

She sighed and continued molding the clay into a ball.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I want to find my birth parents."

"Really?"

Rachel nodded squeezing the clay.

"Sometimes I wonder about what my mother and father looked like. Why I was given up for adoption. I've never told Aba and Pop because I don't want to hurt them."

"That makes sense."

"I haven't started looking… with so much going on. But there's a part of me that always wonders. Remember that old children's book "Are You My Mother?"

"Yes."

"Well when I was a kid, they read it to us in kindergarten class and it made me cry because at the end of the story the bird finds the mother and I couldn't find mine. I never told my parents, how could I? Later on I found out it was a closed adoption. Aba said they wanted it that way."

"Oh."

"It's on my wish list. Find my parents. Write a book. Drink champagne on a mountaintop."

"Anything else?"

Before Rachel could answer her, Lucy walked into the kitchen, her long brown hair was tousled and she was rubbing her eyes, the oversized orange nightshirt she wore had a few bleach stains. Since the kids tried to do their own laundry all kinds of mishaps had occurred: shrunken clothes, white shirts turned pink, mismatched socks, and tangled underwear. Mercedes applauded them for trying but said she would have to supervise next time they were in the laundry room.

"Hey, sweetie," Rachel said. "Why are you up?"

Lucy shrugged her shoulders, and sat beside her mother, covering her mouth as she yawned.

"I don't know. I just woke up."

Rachel put her arm around her and Lucy rested her head on her mother's bony shoulder.

"Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast." Mercedes asked getting up from the table to get another cup of coffee.

"No, but thank you."

"Your hair is all tangled," Rachel said as she stroked her daughter's head, "Go get your comb."

Lucy left the kitchen and moments later returned with a wide-tooth silver-plated comb.

"That's pretty," Mercedes said as she poured cream into her coffee.

"Thank you. Granddad and Zaide gave it to me."

"How sweet. It's so elegant," Mercedes said.

"Yes, my parents know elegance," Rachel said, taking the comb from her, "I'm glad you let your hair grow back. It's gotten so long."

Lucy's hair almost reached her waist. Rachel self-consciously touched the pink silk scarf that covered her own head that only had sparse remains of her once, thick, lustrous mane.

"I missed it."

"Me too."

Rachel began working the comb through Lucy's hair, but after a few minutes, her hands began to shake and she dropped the comb.

"Mom?"

"I'm sorry, Luce, it's hard for me to grip the comb."

Lucy picked up the comb and hugged her mother.

"Are you hurting?"

"No, I think I should rest."

"I can help you upstairs," Lucy said.

"I can sit here."

"Are you sure?" Mercedes asked, "Dr. Jordan said -

"Yes, I'm sure," Rachel said, her tone tinged with a hint of anger and sadness, "I'm sure I want to sit in a kitchen with you and Lucy and comb her hair, talking about nothing and have everything feel normal; I'm sure I need these moments more than chemo, or get well wishes or packages from Tiffany's and Saks that Aba and Pop send because that's what their princess needs, isn't it? More perfume, more silk, more diamonds; I'm sure I want to have a conversation that doesn't involve cancer; I'm sure I want to forget Finn's face every time he looks at me because he wants so much to take this all away but he can't and that's killing me even more, not a brain tumor."

She began crying and Lucy held her mother.

"It's ok, Mom."

"No, it's not," she looked over at Mercedes and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just so tired of this. I only want to be who I was before.""

Mercedes leaned over and hugged her.

"No apology needed. We all love you and we're here for you."

The three hugged for a moment longer and then Lucy helped her go upstairs to her room. Once they were gone, Mercedes finished her second cup of coffee and began cleaning up the kitchen. Lucy came back downstairs and joined her at the dishwasher where she was loading in the piles of plates and cups that filled the sink. Lucy picked up a dirty Mickey Mouse plate and put it in the dishwasher; and she was about to put in a pink china teacup but Mercedes stopped her.

"Put that on the counter. It's not dishwasher safe."

Lucy put the teacup back and placed a bowl into the bottom rack.

"She's asleep."

"That's good."

"I never know what to say any more."

"What do you mean?"

"When she cries… what do I say?"

"I don't know. Tell her you love her. Or just listen."

"I saw Dad crying in the back yard yesterday. He thought he was by himself. He didn't see me. I never saw him cry before. Not even in the hospital."

"He's hurting."

Lucy took the last handful of forks and spoons and put them in the silverware holder.

"I like living here. It feels safe."

Mercedes poured detergent into the dispenser, closed the dishwasher door, and turned it on.

"We like having you here."

Just then, Sam walked into the kitchen carrying the twins, with Abby and Matt behind him. Even with his bedhead, sleep encrusted eyes, and two excited toddlers clinging to his bare chest, he looked sexy. Mercedes gave him a long kiss and took Rosy and Jake from his arms, putting them in their high chairs. Matt, Lucy, and Abby began rummaging through the fridge.

"I'm making breakfast," Sam said, shooing them from the fridge, "How about omelets and French toast?"

The kids agreed to the menu and helped Sam cook breakfast while Mercedes occupied the twins with fruit cups and juice until their eggs were ready. Much later while everyone was gathered around the table talking and eating, Finn came downstairs, dressed in bright red running shorts and a black T-shirt. He nodded at everyone, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and left, mumbling something about working out.

Matt hung his head.

"I thought he would eat with us."

Nobody said anything but the cheerful atmosphere suddenly became subdued. Mercedes ruffled Matt's long hair.

"Tell you what. After breakfast, all of you can help me in the garden and then Uncle Sam can take you to the pool."

Matt gave her a sad smile.

"Thanks, Aunt Mercedes."

Mercedes kissed his cheek.

"Your father needs some space right now."

Matt only nodded and finished his breakfast. After the meal was over, Sam and Mercedes took the twins upstairs, dressed them and put them in their playpen in their room across the hall. Mercedes made sure the baby monitors were on, and she stood at the top of the stairs and yelled down to Abby:

"Abby!"

Abby walked to the stairs.

"Yes?"

"Rosy and Jake are in their playpen. I put the upstairs monitors on, make sure the downstairs ones are on too."

"Ok."

"We'll be in the bedroom."

Abby nodded and walked away. Then they went to their bedroom, undressed, and showered together. As always, Sam insisted on worshiping every part of her body, washing every limb with care, gliding the soapy washcloth across each butt cheek, kneading the soft flesh, while nibbling her neck. He was rather devilish that morning and he teased her so much with his lips and tongue that she almost came, but he would pull back and whisper:

"Not yet."

He slipped his fingers inside her, pumping slowly, as she clung to him, reaching for bliss, but at the breaking point, he withdrew them, kissed her tenderly and began washing her large breasts, massaging the heavy mounds, and sucking her big turgid nipples. But Mercedes loved her husband too much to merely take the body worship without giving anything in return, she took his erect member and held it in her small, soft hands, stroking it at a deliberate pace, knowing the right tempo to bring him pleasure, but not enough for him to reach an orgasm; she teased him, fondling his testicles, kissing his neck and tweaking his hard pink nipples.

"Baby…" he whispered, "I cant'…"

He turned off the shower, carried her to their bedroom, laid her glistening wet body on the unmade bed, and entered her, with her plump legs wrapped around his narrow waist, as he moved within her, he stared into her eyes, rolling his hips, taking his time with each thrust. And Mercedes jiggled beneath him, her breasts did as they pleased, bouncing up and down, slapping together, her thighs quivered, and her belly shook, all of her scars, stretch marks and cellulite were on display in the bright morning sunlight and she didn't care; she moaned at the wonderful sensation of him filling her up. She squeezed his firm ass, urging him deeper, admiring his muscular physique; his biceps bulged as he leaned forward and kissed her; she was imprisoned between his strong thighs and felt so safe and loved. They came together and they held each other afterwards, not caring about how they would have to shower again.

"Thank you," Mercedes said, caressing his cheek.

"We both needed that," he said, kissing her.

"I know."

So many days passed when they would fall asleep too exhausted to do much else except hold each other and kiss goodnight.

"This is our time," Sam said.

Since Finn and his family moved in with them, Sam and Mercedes had trouble finding time to be together; and when they did get time alone, they decided that they couldn't discuss the kids, or family or anything except each other. For a while they laid together in silence, wrapped up in each other, cooling down from their lovemaking. Sam gazed down at her, lifted her chin and kissed her.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"What's been going on with you?" He asked, kissing her cheek.

"I saw a beautiful rose in the flower garden," she said, "I took a picture of it."

"You're getting good with photography."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

"How is that house in Louisville shaping up?"

"Pretty good. I found the right stones for the fireplace; and the windows will be installed soon. In fact, we should take a day trip down there one day."

"That sounds like fun."

"I know this awesome restaurant where they serve fried catfish and butter beans and the sweet tea tastes so fresh you'd think you brewed it yourself."

"Let's go."

"Ok, and then we can walk around the flea market and I can buy you turquoise jewelry and a new jeweled comb to wear in your hair," he said, sinking his fingers into her kinky mane, massaging her scalp, "I love your hair, just like this, all wild and free."

Over the past couple of months, Mercedes had acquired quite a collection of decorative hair combs. Sam loved it when she wore them, especially the ones that sparkled with costume jewels. He also made it clear that he wanted her to stay natural and not go back to relaxers; something she had pondered doing after the twins were born.

She lay her head on his, hard, chiseled chest and kissed his heart, as he stroked her back, his big, callused hands sent tingles through her body.

"You're so beautiful. I'm blessed to have you," he said.

"I'm blessed too."

"Have you ever been skinny dipping?"

Mercedes laughed.

"What?"

"Skinny dipping."

"No, I can't say that I have."

"We should go."

"Sam – "

"I'm serious. It's great at night under the stars."

"With the mosquitoes."

This time Sam laughed and tickled her.

"Think about it."

"I am thinking. And it sounds awful."

"You have to use your imagination."

Mercedes sat up and kissed his lips.

"I am imagining bugs, bats, and other things… but for you, I'll try it once."

Sam grinned.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

He hugged her tight.

"We need a date night."

"Yeah, we need to plan one… oh, I want to show you something."

Mercedes got up and went to the closet and got her photo album; when she returned to the bed, Sam wrapped his arms around her once more, kissing her.

"You're awfully affectionate this morning," she said.

"I miss you."

Mercedes knew the feeling. With the chaos and tragedy that surrounded them, missing each other was a side effect. She opened the album.

"Aunt Josephine sent this. It has a lot of old pictures of my family."

Sam nodded.

"Cool, let me see."

Mercedes pointed to a picture of a full-figured black woman with a huge Afro wearing a white T-shirt and ripped jeans. She's sitting on a couch with a cute, little baby on her lap.

"That's my mother, she said, "And the baby is me."

Sam stared at the photo, running his fingers across the shiny plastic cover that protected the picture underneath.

"You're beautiful like her. You have her eyes."

"I wish I remembered her," she said and pointed to another picture of a tall black man with curly hair and white teeth, he stood in front of a grocery store dressed in a red smock and jeans.

"And that's my Dad. He worked at Safeway."

"What did your mother do?"

"She worked at a daycare."

"You've got his nose," Sam said, pointing to her father's nose.

Mercedes smiled.

"Yeah. My Dad's nose, my mother's eyes, and I guess my mouth is an original."

He kissed her.

"I wish I could've met them."

"Me too."

She closed the album.

"I'm glad she sent this. I like looking at their pictures. I can see that they loved me a lot."

Sam kissed her forehead.

"Of course they did."

"Do you think they would've been proud of me?"

He cupped her face with his hands and stared into her eyes.

"Schätzchen, you're intelligent, kind, open-hearted, talented, loving, giving, and fierce. How could they not be proud of you? You're a treasure."

"Sam…"

"Shhh, let me finish. Everyday I'm amazed at how lucky I am. I have something for you," he said as he leaned over and opened the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. He pulled out a cream colored envelope with her name written in calligraphy across the front and handed it to her.

"Here," he said.

Mercedes took the envelope, smiling at the calligraphy.

"Did Stacy do this for you?"

"No, but she taught me how. With some Skype sessions and lots of patience; you know how my little sister is; short-tempered as a wild horse. I know it isn't perfect but…"

She hugged him, kissing his warm, full lips.

"I don't need perfect. I can't believe you learned calligraphy for me."

"Well, I'm not as good as Stacy but I think I got the hang of it. You liked my invitation from our first date so much that I figured you would like this too and –

"Samuel Hummel, you're just too much. Thank you! I have a letter for you too. I didn't forget."

They decided to write each other love letters a few weeks ago, during the darkest, turbulent events that hit their family. Watching Finn fall apart and Rachel soldier through cancer, made them appreciate what they had even more. She got out of bed once more and went to her dresser and pulled out a card from the top drawer. She handed it to him. He gazed at it and tears filled his eyes.

"This is a photo you took."

Mercedes made a card of a photo she took of icicles that formed on the eaves of their old house in Tennessee; Sam loved icicles.

"I fell in love with you in that house that was frozen with ice and snow. And when you told me that story of how much you loved icicles as a little boy, well, this captured everything for me. Open it."

Sam opened the card and read it aloud.

Dear Sam,

I've never met a kinder soul than you. You've opened your heart to me countless times and I'm grateful everyday. Right now as I write this, you're giving Rosy and Jake a bath and singing My Darling Clementine, and our babies are laughing and I can only feel joy. Pure, beautiful joy. It's only one moment, and despite everything, I cling to these moments. I love that you steal kisses when we're doing something as dull as folding laundry; and when we're taking a stroll you always hold my hand, always. It shows the world that I am yours. I love that. I love how proud you are that I'm your wife and how you smile when you introduce me and say: "This is my beautiful wife, Mercedes…" I feel warm inside each time it happens because you value what we have. Sam, you have all of me. I love you. And Abby loves you. Thank you for celebrating her beauty and wisdom. To be clear, she's no longer my daughter; she's OUR daughter. Just the other day, I heard you talking with her in the kitchen, and she was telling you about a bird's nest she found, and you listened to every word she said. Most people don't listen any more, but you're not like most people. You cherish our marriage everyday. I can't thank you enough for everything you do: rubbing my feet when I'm tired, making love to me with your whole heart, holding me when I cry, praying with me, taking care of our family. Such a loving, wonderful man, you are. And I am proud to have your name and to bear your children. I love you, Samuel. Forever.

By the time, he finished reading her letter, Sam was crying, he hugged Mercedes and she rubbed his back.

"I meant all of it Sam. I don't care what's going on in our lives, you will always know how much I love you and what a wonderful man you are. God sent you to me, and I can't sing your praises enough."

They held each other a long time. Mercedes knew that Sam was overcome with many emotions, such a tender heart he had. His tears fell onto her bare shoulder, and she welcomed them, Sam never had to hide anything from her. Finally, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and said:

"Thank you, schätzchen. Now read mine."

Dear Mercedes,

I hear you snoring right now. And before you deny it, yes, my love, you snore, but I don't care. The house is so quiet and I'm sitting here thinking about how blessed, honored, and fortunate I am to have you for my wife and mother of my children. The first time I saw you, I was blown away. You were determined yet vulnerable, strong yet scared, you kept it together when many would've fallen apart. I loved you when you drank hot chocolate and cried in my kitchen and danced with me in front of the fireplace on that cold winter afternoon so long ago, and the first time I held you in my arms, I knew I would love you forever. Don't ask me how I knew. I just did. You're my blue angel, my heart, and my life. And as tired and cliché as it sounds, everything I do is for you. You showed me that intimacy doesn't always mean sex. It's how you hold each other, look inside each other, share moments of silence, and pray together. Don't get me wrong, making love to you is beyond wonderful, but I like the entire sum of all parts that we share. Honestly, baby, I never thought I could get what I have in this life, right here, right now. Rosy, Jake and Abby are my all. I'm blessed with three gorgeous, wonderful children. And you, always by side, challenging me, loving me, holding me, I love you so much. Did I mention that you're beautiful? I'm not talking about your body and face (though they are) I'm talking about your grace and dignity, your kind heart, your intelligence all of it is so beautiful to me. I am proud you are my wife. So damn proud. Schätzchen, I am eternally yours; the fire will never die. Just keep burning bright until the next life. I love you.

Sam.

Now it was Mercedes' turn to cry. She held his letter and the tears fell onto the page, making the black ink run. She set the letter on the nightstand so her tears wouldn't ruin it and held onto Sam.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No need for thanks. I meant every word of it and then some."

He sort of hummed and rocked her in his arms until she got her voice back and said:

"I don't snore."

Both of them laughed and held each other, wiping away tears, sharing a few kisses and soft caresses on their damp skin. They took another quick shower, dressed, stripped the bed, and piled the sheets into the laundry basket. Mercedes was about to lift the basket from the floor but Sam shooed her away and picked it up himself. Instead of protesting, Mercedes chuckled and was about to open the door when Sam dropped the basket and grabbed her by her wide hips; he pushed her against the door and kissed her, his tongue delving into her sweet mouth; when he pulled away he said:

"Our time doesn't have to stop once we leave this room. I refuse to miss you. I'll steal as many moments as I can with you. It's crazy to miss someone who sleeps right next to you, don't you think?"

Mercedes nodded, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Steal away," she whispered, and opened the door.

END NOTES: Thank you for reading my story!

[gossipnetwork-blog]

How Women, Tech Took Over Porn: Inside the 2018 AVN Awards

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/how-women-tech-took-over-porn-inside-the-2018-avn-awards/

How Women, Tech Took Over Porn: Inside the 2018 AVN Awards

From #MeToo to cam stars, this year’s Oscars of the obscene showcased the future of porn

Here’s a Black Mirror pitch: You pay several hundred dollars to attend the world’s biggest porn convention and awards ceremony. You travel to Las Vegas, where the air has transformed into mentholated nicotine vapor and no one will validate your parking. You do this in order to meet porn stars in the flesh, to see them onstage celebrating the Oscars of the obscene, because – even though, according to Scientific American, half of us are now creating our own sexual content on our personal devices – there’s something superhuman about sexual celebrities.

Death of a Porn Star

When August Ames killed herself following controversy on Twitter, it revealed a schism between the gay and straight communities in the porn industry

But when you arrive at the convention, in place of your 1990s dream of impossibly proportioned stars in bedazzled Lycra posing for Polaroids, what you see is a 15,000-square-foot hall teeming with hundreds of beautiful, semi-clothed models of all shapes and styles, grinning into their laptops. You try to talk to a young woman in heart-shaped pasties and booty shorts, but she’ll only give you a few seconds of attention before she’s back to clicking her shiny gold nails across her keyboard.

Here’s the twist: This ain’t no dystopian nightmare. Attendees of the 35th Annual Adult Entertainment Expo and Adult Video News Awards were treated to precisely this display of tech-mediated intimacy. Plenty of big names were in attendance – stars who had led more traditional adult-film careers – but they were outnumbered by scores of up-and-coming models who primarily built their own businesses using cam shows, original clip stores and monetized social-media platforms. The mass availability of easily pirated streaming video may have decimated the porn economy, but it seems that women are the ones adapting, finding fresh ways to connect directly with consumers. As these models gain more economic influence, they are also raising the bar for consent conversations throughout the industry.

The last time I was at the AVNs was in 2012, when I was nominated for producing and directing a niche site called QueerPorn.TV. My Bay-Area scene was proud to think of ourselves as the forward-thinking weirdos, exemplifying the characteristics of the queer porn genre: body-positive and diverse, with a riot-grrrl aesthetic. We were nominated in the somewhat self-contradicting category Best Professional Amateur Site, and were miffed when we lost to Clips4Sale, a platform which had been around since 2003 for creators to upload and sell short original videos. Here we were, indie smut with a vision, and we lost to a tech host?

Now, it seems as clear as a Bellagio fountain that clips stores were the future of “professional amateurs.” While much of the male-dominated porn studio system is fighting against stolen content, independent female artists have been able to establish a sustainable business, producing their own content and marketing it to a small but loyal fan base.

One such artist is Bratty Nikki, a leggy, half-Mexican, half-Irish woman with a frosty reality-TV aesthetic: blonde extensions, impossible nails, skin-tight miniskirts and designer spiked heels. She sat on a gleaming white couch in an enormous booth on the expo floor, calling attention to her shirt, which read; “Never underestimate the power of a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Never underestimate the power of a girl who knows what she wants,” says Bratty Nikki. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

Nikki is the executive vice president of IWantEmpire.com, an umbrella company that includes IWantClips, IWantPhone, IWantFanClub and IWantCustomClips, with more in the works. Hers is one of many companies vying for dominance in a sort of clips market arms race. Nikki got her start seven years ago working as an online financial dominatrix, offering phone and cam sessions to clients in which she expressed a personality she tells me isn’t really a character. “I am a greedy brat,” she says. “I believe that I deserve the best out of life. My fans love that I’m confident enough to say, ‘This is what I want and you’re gonna give it to me.'”

She started IWantEmpire with her husband, entrepreneur Jay Phillips, because she felt other host sites were underestimating her as an artist. Like other platforms, they take a cut of the profits, but the artist sets their own price and decides what and how much they want to upload. Their brand expanded to offer a store for consumers to order custom clips, and a fan club where artists can monetize social media-like “lifestyle” content. As it turns out, kinky consumers are willing to pay for content created by people who understand precisely what they’re looking for.

Like many fetish clips, Nikki’s videos don’t include sex or even nudity, just specialty monologues in which she teases, chastises and degrades her devotees. In the larger-than life video projected over us in the booth, she wore skinny jeans and a tank top, standing in an apartment entryway holding shopping bags. “Yes, I’m leaving you,” she spits at the camera with an exaggerated eye roll. “I’ve already maxed out your credit cards. Taken a bunch of vacations with my girlfriends that you paid for. You’re going to be sitting home alone tonight crying into your pillow as you hate-jerk your little cock.”

The audacity of financial domination is a perfect fit for naturally bossy women. Haven, a Haitian-American dominatrix from Orlando, says that when she was go-go dancing and camming she didn’t take direction from clients very well. When she discovered that she could make fetish clips online, it was a way for her to make a career off her genuine demeanor. “I really don’t want to talk to you; I really just want your money,” she deadpans. “That’s me, wholeheartedly.” Now she films around 15 short clips every Sunday, improvising on topics like small-penis humiliation or jack-off instruction. She spends the rest of the week editing footage, scheduling uploads, writing marketing copy and promoting her brand on social media.

Fans mill about the floor of the AEE. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

“It takes a lot of work to make this look so easy,” she says.

I tagged along to an afternoon of clip shoots at a local film studio run by porn director/performers Madeline Marlowe and Will Havoc. Havoc was pulling a red and black leather harness over his tattooed chest, preparing to shoot sex scenes with two porn stars named Riley Nixon and Arabelle Raphael.

Riley, who was nominated for Best New Starlet at the AVNs, wiggled into a canary-yellow latex two-piece and platform heels. As she filled out her legal paperwork, she kept squatting and yanking on the rubbery crotch of her outfit. Even though she was following a conventional route to adult film fame, signing at the Penthouse booth and shooting for notorious gonzo studio Elegant Angel, she also sold Skype shows, custom clips and signed Polaroids on her personal website. She would post today’s footage on her own ManyVids and OnlyFans pages, where fans can pay a monthly membership for access to exclusive content.

One advantage to making her own content is that she has more leeway to maintain her preferred androgynous style and buzzed head ­– some mainstream studios still won’t cast models with short hair or tattoos. “I’ll wear a wig to play a character, but I don’t want to have to wear a wig to play the role of a woman,” she complains.

Arabelle has had to deal with her own hair troubles in the industry. She’s a French-Persian Jew, and long ago grew tired of being expected to straighten her hair and use skin-lightening makeup to work with certain directors.

“I was being cast in really racist roles,” she says, “and basically told I was not good enough.” She took time off to build her own membership site, a Clips4Sale store, and an OnlyFans following, discovering unprecedented financial and emotional success. “I had no idea I was a good performer and that people wanted more content of me,” she says. “I left my hair curly, got as many tattoos as I wanted, shot with who I wanted.”

Riley, Arabelle and Will showed one another the results of their standard STI tests on the secure Performer Availability Scheduling Services database. They negotiated sexual boundaries and preferences while doing their own costuming and makeup. With low production cost and the creative advantage of working with friends, they’re each an individual porn studio unto themselves.

Will Havoc, Riley Nixon and Arabelle Raphael film a scene after hours. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

Porn stars work hard and party hard, and sometimes they work while they’re playing. Late that night, I was invited to a private sex party with a hard-to-obtain address. A Lyft took me away from the light pollution of the strip to an edge of town tract housing development. Through the unfurnished living room, past an ominously neon-lit pool, was a warehouse filled with porn stars smoking blunts and offering one another bumps in their rhinestone-encrusted nails.

Hired stars ascended to a sort of wrestling platform in the center of the room, performing exaggerated lubed-up sex for onlookers to the rhythm of deafening drone metal. My friends, a polyamorous “family,” decided to find a quieter room in which to play. As I enjoyed a beer and watched sex-worker activist Siouxsie Q fuck her curly-haired boyfriend Michael Vegas, an AVN nominee for Best Supporting Actor – as her Barbie-blonde pro-domme girlfriend Bella Bathory was eaten out in a nearby chair – it occurred to me that we were doing exactly what porn fans assumed we must be doing. I felt like I had ringside seats to watch NBA superstars play a pick-up game.

As the four-day convention wore on, the all-night partying didn’t threaten to slow anyone down. The AEE still makes the classic circuit demands of conventional porn stars, each scheduled to appear for three- to five-hour shifts, where they were to sign and sell eight-by-10 glossies, allow hands around their waists and shoulders, smile, twerk, tell fans how their favorite position is still reverse cowgirl, princess wave, talk to men like they’re babies, talk to men like they’re dogs. But it was the cam models who had the boundless energy, who behaved like Vine stars or friends at a slumber party that just happens to be surveilled. They hovered over their screens, promising to spank one another in exchange for tips; the ding of virtual tokens being earned echoed the slots at the nearby casino.

The models had each brought their own laptops, colorfully branded with their stage names. Most of them had elaborate production rigs including flattering ring lights, bulky webcams and phallic microphones. Cam models perform all kinds of explicit shows when they broadcast from their homes; but, due to city-wide nudity laws, they couldn’t wear less than pasties and a thong at AEE. That meant no dildo shows or live sex. Yet their chirpy conversation still had value for the members watching from home, some of whom had actually financed the travel for their favorite model.

Performers at the FreeCams booth. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

At the booth for the webcam company Chaturbate, both men and women were making cameos on one another’s screens. This seemed to be in defiance of the porn convention that objects of desire should be separated, lest a consumer’s taste be offended or boner deflated by something they weren’t expecting to see.

A male model named Leon with One-Direction hair and powder-blue briefs explained to me that one of his online fans had just told him he was enjoying watching all the broadcasts because, “It’s like seeing all of the characters from my favorite TV shows in a crossover episode!”

I approached a group of giggling young camgirls in pastel-colored wigs. They were teasing a group of bystanders, telling them to tune in to their group cam show later that night “to see some real action.”

I asked them if they were hoping that in future years they’d be as famous as the porn stars in the Wicked or Evil Angel booths? Did they want everyone to know their names?

One of the models shook her head vigorously, making her unicorn-horn headband wobble. “The more famous you get,” she pointed out, “the more people will pirate your content.”

Her friend, who was wearing a mesh leotard with skeleton hands covering her nipples, agreed: “We make more money when only our fans know who we are.”

MyFreeCams performer Lil Miss Angel at the 2018 AEE. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

With the national conversation surrounding #MeToo, it was no surprise that the sex workers at AEE were ready to address the topics of harassment and bodily autonomy. Members of the Adult Performer Advocacy Committee (APAC) handed out colorful “What Is Consent?” flyers, which illustrated how consent is “informed” and “freely given,” and that it “can be revoked at any time.”

For the second year in a row, every single convention attendee – fans and exhibitors alike – was required to sign a Code of Conduct form that outlined, for example, the difference between a consensual public picture and a violation such as an upskirt.

The Code of Conduct described a zero-tolerance policy towards “stalking, unwelcome physical contact” and “offensive verbal assaults,” emphasizing that guests were “welcome to use the restroom that match their gender presentation or identity.” This last stipulation was especially welcome from the trans community attending the awards, as two years ago several performers accused Hard Rock security guards of disrespecting a gender non-conforming attendee.

Some participants were aware of ways they could make their models more comfortable. Best director nominee Greg Lansky, a delightfully flashy French pornographer in a red Givenchy tracksuit, says that he literally elevates his studio so that fans can see women “on a pedestal.” His security teams knows which performers are ok hugging and touching their fans and which aren’t.

“I’m trying to make these girls feel good about what they do,” he says. “They all worked really hard to get here.”

With security at all corners of his booth, with its Instagrammable gold couch and open bar, Lansky believes fans get the message that women deserve respect.

“It’s hard for me to go anywhere [in the hotel],” says Jessica Drake, a Best Actress nominee, from the relative privacy of her pristine media suite. “Guys congregate in groups of 30 and just stand there. They circle you. I’ve become a master of taking a selfie and restraining them at the same time.”

Director and performer Joanna Angel, owner of the alt genre site Burning Angel, says she’s never had a bad experience with a fan at AEE. “The fans are traveling to be here,” she says. “They’re really looking forward to this. People wait in really long lines to come see you.” The only time she’s seen nonconsensual groping is from men at the bar after the convention, whom casino security quickly ejected. “I wouldn’t even call guys like that fans,” she says, just entitled jerks.

Ron Jeremy, who has been considered more of a walking novelty than active performer for many years, was banned from the convention and awards show following his claim that groping is a part of the job of his pubic appearances.

In a statement to Rolling Stone, AVN CEO Tony Rios commented, “Ron Jeremy admitted guilt to specific aspects of our code of conduct policy. We discussed this with Ron, and he was not allowed to attend the convention and awards show.”

However, performer/director James Deen, who was accused of on-set misconduct as well as intimate partner violence back in 2015, was nominated at and attended the awards.

Rios clarified, “We did not prohibit people from attending based on accusations.”

Siouxsie Q, who was recently elected secretary of APAC, is upset about what she sees as double standards, where the young, powerful Deen is still welcomed while aging Jeremy is put out to pasture.

“I think we see similar trends in Hollywood. These accounts of Harvey Weinstein’s predatory behavior aren’t coming out during the height of the Kill Bill franchise, but rather in the soggy aftermath of Paddington Bear 2,” she says. “As someone’s star dwindles, people are more willing to watch them fall.”

Deen’s attorney Michael Fattorosi characterized comparisons to Jeremy as “inaccurate and unfair.” In a statement, he said, “James was never investigated criminally, nor were there ever any lawsuits filed against him by any of the accusers. Nor did James ever admit to any misconduct on his part.”

And unlike other industries where powerful men continue to be reckoned, those in porn face powerful taboos. “It’s challenging for adult performers to speak out regarding any abuse that occurs; it is because it perpetuates stigma and allows for society to tell us we asked for it,” says Tasha Reign, an APAC chairperson.

Siouxsie Q agrees that stigma plays a huge role in consent controversies within the sex industry. “As long as sex workers have as much difficulty as they do when reporting and prosecuting sexual assault,” she says, “there will continue to be a culture of silence, victim scrutiny, and inconsistencies in how the industry responds.”

Janice Griffith was nominated for the Best Actress award at the AVNs. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

“What do you think of this dress? It’s very ‘Times Up,’ but is it whorey enough?”

Janice Griffith, a Best Actress nominee, is in her hotel room preparing for the awards. It’s true that her black cocktail dress is not as provocative as some of her colleagues’ revealing red-carpet looks. The teal undertone in her ombre hair is fading. She’s Indo-Caribbean, Angelina Jolie-skinny, and speaks with a husky authority. She barks at her date not to interrupt her, impulsively dumping out a jar of candy because there’s nowhere else for him to pour her a fresh vodka cocktail.

None of Janice’s friends in attendance know how to roll a joint. I’m happy to oblige, so she gratefully hands me a packet of rolling papers the size of a hot dog and a sack of sativa the size of my laptop.

“Our biggest issue is that we treat an industry of freelancers as if we’re an industry of employees,” Janice says. Despite the efforts of the Adult Performer Advocacy Committee and Free Speech Coalition, in her view, porn is currently too under-regulated for meaningful accountability.

“When men make women uncomfortable, we brush it off,” she says, “because we know people will write us off as being over-reactive or emotional.”

I visited many porn star rooms and saw both their self care safeguards and true psychological states – Sephora explosions and Cosco-sized boxes of Tangerine Emergen-cee, elaborate dabbing rigs and electric kettles. Janice had brought Complete Works of Kierkegaard.

Harli Lotts, co-host of the AVNs, dons a suicide awareness and prevention ribbon on the red carpet. Roger Kisby for Rolling Stone

As the red carpet wound its way through the Hard Rock, gamblers and bar patrons scrambled for a glimpse of the stars. While many pornographers opted for prom-worthy gowns and suits, their outfits nodded to their profession with bare midriffs, waist-high slits and undulating décolletage. Some wore little more than fringed bikinis. Lance Hart, founder of the PervOUT network, stood out in a stripper-style policeman’s shirt and fishnet stockings; he was handcuffed to his date Charlotte Sartre, who revealed on Twitter that she was not wearing anything underneath her slinky black dress. Abella Danger, last year’s Best New Starlet, shimmered in a transparent bodysuit adorned with strategically placed green and pink crystals.

The AVN awards show was predictably raunchy but surprisingly sincere. Co-hosted by comedian Aries Spears, Australian performer/director Angela White and camgirl Harli Lotts, the event’s biggest draw was hip-hop star Lil Wayne, who performed two high-energy sets with a drummer and DJ. The teleprompter dialog meshed well with the talents of porn star presenters, who were well-practiced in the art of the arched eyebrow and exaggerated wink.

White set a record by winning fourteen awards, the most AVN wins in one night. Clutching her Female Performer of the Year trophy to her remarkable cleavage, she emotionally thanked her co-stars for “allowing me to be vulnerable.”

Tommy Pistol, the Best Actor winner for a film called Ingenue, praised the industry for being a “fucked up family.”

Yet Spears, a MADtv alum, did not seem to pick up on the changing attitudes in the room. “Your personal space should not be invaded,” he declared, before utterly failing to read the room. “However, you bitches look delicious tonight. If I should come up to you and beg you for a blowjob, can you blame me? I am a hot blooded heterosexual male in a room full of professional cocksuckers.”

Eventually, the celebration came to an end. The false eyelashes were peeled off, the hangovers medicated with Ibuprofen and brunch. Pornographers’ minds return to their business, and to the social challenges they continue to face.

“We demand so much from porn stars,” says Bree Mills, a lesbian writer and director. “Performers who have made successful careers could be mentors. Give them infrastructure. Get them an appointment with an accountant, get them health care. They get the stigma stamp on them harder than anybody. We have to take care of them.”

Source link