#for a show that starts off heavily misogynistic it's also calling itself out with this episode

[kitkatt0430]

visiting Swedish Doctor meets Klinger and offers to put him in touch with another Doctor she knows who could do a gender reassignment surgery for him and Klinger's reaction to learning what she means by that is basically O_O 'I'm crazy, not trans'

It's just a small moment, but having a nice visiting Doctor go "trans rights" on a show from the 70s about the 50s is rather nice

Also this episode is letting Margaret call Hawkeye out on his misogyny, which is also quite nice to see - Hawkeye is definitely the sort of person who tries to be an ally but hates to admit how he falls short himself. He is trying to better himself throughout the episode, though. And it's good to see him realize that wanting to do better doesn't mean shit if he's going to keep putting his foot in his mouth. It's some good character growth for him and I think demonstrates something I do enjoy about MASH very much - they aren't afraid to acknowledge their protagonists are flawed and take them to task for it.

Hawkeye isn't the only one shoving his foot down his throat with the lady Doctor, though. Charles has been making an ass of himself too. Which, seeing his own earlier behavior mirrored in Charles, is definitely a kick in the pants for Hawkeye too.

It ends on a good note for Hawkeye and Margaret too - he didn't apologize on screen, which is a shame - but they're clearly still friends and she knows he's actually taken what she had to say to heart.

[flamediel]

yo dont know yashua you cant say he's racist how woulf you feel if someone judged you based on your religion and called you racist and sexist for it? its his right ot believe what he wants and you are being like a nazi attacking him

ok, look. I was just gonna delete this or respond to this w a meme and laugh it off (and the girlies on my snap KNOW this made me cackle) but we’re talking about a particularly insidious brand of racism and misogyny and I feel the need to elaborate. for those who didn’t see this is the post we are discussing.

Let’s start by discussing the tradwife movement. this post was tagged as tradwife, so you can’t tell me it’s not associated with the movement. the hashtag is at the top of the pic and tagged in the description, so it’s hard to miss. Yashua commented on a post with those hashtags being VERY visible saying he liked that, so he v obviously subscribes to those ideas. 

What is the tradwife movement? it means “traditional wife” and it originated in alt-right spaces as a means of getting women to subscribe to right-wing ideals. This NYT Opinion piece by Annie Kelly, a Ph.D. student researching the impact of digital cultures on anti-feminism and the far right, describes this phenomenon in incredible depth. Here is a short explanation of where the movement started, pulled from Ms. Kelly’s article

“Some members of the alt-right have been weighing whether the absence of women from their movement is a problem. In 2016, the Swedish nationalist Marcus Follin, who calls himself The Golden One on YouTube, made a video titled “The Women Question.” In it, he urged his followers to dial down the open misogyny and consider new strategies to win over more women to the white nationalist cause. Mr. Follin was responding to statistics from the Austrian presidential election that year, in which female voters helped swing the election away from the candidate of the far-right Freedom Party. “You might not like that women have the right to vote, you might not like that anyone has the right to vote,” Mr. Follin conceded, “but it’s about winning a long-term political victory.

Enter the tradwives.

Over the past few years, dozens of YouTube and social media accounts have sprung up showcasing soft-spoken young white women who extol the virtues of staying at home, submitting to male leadership and bearing lots of children — being “traditional wives.” 

If you read through that tiny snippet of the article, what are some keywords that stand out? for me, it’s “alt-right,” and “white nationalist.” The racism there is unmistakable, and while Yashua may not be white he has previously expressed some incredibly racist viewpoints, like how him kissing a Russian woman ended racism and his saying the n-word despite doing the most to separate himself from the black community when it’s even slightly inconvenient for him. If he’s following and participating in tradwife circles, then he’s also v much a part of white supremacist and anti-black movements (yes, POC can be parts of those movements, no it does not make it ok). 

The article also makes it incredibly clear how misogynistic the tradwife movement is:

Female fears of objectification and sexual violence remain as potent as ever; the tradwife subculture exploits them by blaming modernity for such phenomena, and then offers chastity, marriage and motherhood as an escape. As one such YouTube commentator, a teenager, told her audience, traditionalism does “what feminism is supposed to do” in preventing women from being made into “sexual objects” and treated “like a whore.”

It’s a lie, of course. Modesty has never been a safeguard against degradation or rape, and we know that a rapist is no less likely to hurt a woman simply because he’s married to her. But it’s not difficult to see how it could be a seductive lie; the continuous headlines made by the #MeToo movement, paradoxically, were eagerly shared among tradwife networks, as supposed proof that sexual liberation had made life unacceptably dangerous for women.

if you read this and aren’t completely appalled by how this movement preys on women’s fears to push them into pursuing subservient roles in relationships with abusive men, then idk how to better explain it for you. White female victimhood has always been weaponized by right-wing movements to tempt them into joining their ranks, but for a man of color with a predominantly brown, Latin American fanbase to be advocating for this shit? He is exposing mostly young, impressionable women of color to a culture that wants them dead, and that will happily manipulate them in order to achieve their ends. he has a platform, and he’s using it to explicitly harm his fans. This has nothing to do with religion, it has to do with the explicit rhetoric of the movement that he showed support for. he isn’t racist and sexist for being Christian (although, Christianity in and of itself is heavily tied to racism and misogyny and, like most organized religions, its members need to evaluate these stances to make sure they don't perpetuate them) he is racist and sexist for supporting ang giving a platform to the tradwife movement. 

Now that we’ve discussed the movement as a whole, let’s talk about the meme itself. Of course, the biggest umbrella is Jesus Christ, alluding to how Christian faith protects followers from the “rain” or any harmful things. that’s fine, that’s just Christianity. the problem is what comes next, the husband's umbrella labeled with “protecting” and “providing for the family.” UNDER that, and thus presumably less importantly, is the wife’s umbrella labeled with “managing the home” and “having children.” The meme very clearly positions the wife’s role as subservient to the husband’s. Look, it’s perfectly okay to want to be a housewife and devote yourself to kids, but this responsibility is not less than that of the breadwinner. Housework is literally a necessity in maintaining livable conditions, and the reality is in traditional family setups it’s considered menial. if a wife wants to stay home and take care of the kids that’s fine, and if you want to marry a woman that’s into that then that’s also fine, but that woman is not lesser than you. Her role is equal to yours, and just as necessary to sustaining your life as yours is to sustaining hers. Putting a woman’s role under yours, no matter your ideal family dynamic, is sexist. That is a very basic misogynistic ideal, and we cannot ignore that.

Now, onto your comment specifically.

 “how woulf [sic] you feel if someone judged you based on your religion and called you racist and sexist for it”

I am not judging Yashua based on his religion. He is a Christian, and I don’t judge him based solely on that fact. I judge him based on specific problematic things he’s said to support his Christianity. Calling Buddha an “old fat man” is racist, regardless if you’re a Christian or not. Implying that women are subservient to men is sexist, regardless if you’re a Christian or not. These are not isolated incidents with him, and they point to deeper-rooted beliefs that are frankly concerning. It’s not about the fact he’s Christian, it’s about his specific beliefs. 

I’m not going to pretend that there are no problematic sects and beliefs in Islam, but I am comfortable in the fact that I don’t support them, and in fact actively advocate against many of them. I’m literally going into Human Rights to help fight the racism and misogyny ingrained in my country’s religious laws. this is by no means comparable to Yashua, and if you’re implying that I’m racist or sexist on the very basis of my being Muslim you are not only wrong but also islamophobic as fuck. 

“its [sic] his right ot [sic] believe what he wants”

Yes, it is. So long as those beliefs don’t actively harm other people, especially marginalized groups like these do. and guess what anon? if he has the right to believe what he wants, so do I. and I believe he’s a racist, misogynistic asshole who is in desperate need of self-reflection. The difference between mine and his beliefs is that mine don’t actually harm anyone and are well-founded. his are actively hurting his fans, and he needs to fix up because he is spreading incredibly fucked up beliefs.

“you are being like a nazi attacking him”

um. yeah, NO. it is not like nazism to call someone out for perpetuating alt-right ideas. if anything, calling out pro-nazi propaganda is uhh. probably one of the least nazi-like thing someone can do. also equating me calling out a problematic meme to a literal genocide is anti-Semitic and tone-deaf as fuck. Don’t pull that shit here.

well then, I think this is a good enough response. I am very passionate about these issues, and if someone else wants to discuss them I am happy to, but just an FYI, I expect you to be coming in with proper manners. the only reason I answered this ask is because it was an important conversation starter, but if anyone brings this energy into my ask box again it’s a straight block. I hope that’s clear, and that this was helpful. Let me know if you want me to adjust the tags on this post, I did my best but I know this can be a triggering topic, so if you need anything specific tagged just shoot me an ask or a dm. Stay safe!

[cardentist]

this isn’t a proper discourse post, I Agree with a lot of what the op said but there’s specific things about it that get under my skin in a way that makes me want to talk about it, but I don’t want to engage with that post both because I don’t want to speak over the point that’s being made and frankly because I don’t want to be misinterpreted because of the point that’s being made in it.

so for context, I’ll just say that it was a long post about how a lack of engagement with women characters in fandom spaces is tied to misogyny. just be aware that I’m responding to something specific and not criticisms of this in general. (feel free to dm me if you want to see the post for yourself)

the rest of this is going to be rambly and a bit unfocused, so I want to get this out the door right at the top: it is not actually someone’s moral obligation to engage with or create fan content. all other points aside, what this amounts to is labeling people as bigoted for either not creating or engaging with content that you want to see, and while the individual may or may not be a bigot it’s not actually anyone’s job to tailor their fandom experience to cater to you. 

fandom is not activism. it’s not Wrong to point out that a lack of content about women in fandom is likely indicative of the influence of our misogynistic society. and suggesting that people examine their internalized biases isn’t just fine, it’s something that everyone should be doing all the time. but saying that it is literally someone’s “responsibility” to “make an effort” by consuming content about women or they’re bigoted is presenting the consumption of fan content as a moral litmus test that you pass and fail not by how you engage with content but by not engaging with all of the Correct content. 

judging people’s morality based on what characters they read meta for or look at fanart for is, a mistake. it Can Be Indicative of internalized biases but it is not, in and of itself, a moral failing that has to be corrected.

if you want more content to be created about women in fandom then you do it by spreading content about women in fandom, not by guilting people into engaging with it by saying that they’re bigots if they don’t. you encourage creation Through creation.

okay, now to address what Mainly set me off to inspire this post.

this post specifically went out of it’s way to present misogyny as the only answer for why this problem exists in fandom spaces. and while I absolutely agree that it’s a Factor, they left absolutely no room for nuance which included debunking “common excuses.” which, as you can probably guess, contained the things that ticked me off.

first off, you can’t judge that someone is disconnected from women in general based on their fandom consumption because the sum total of their being is not available on tumblr. 

people don’t always bear their souls in fandom spaces. just because they don’t actively post about a character or Characters doesn’t mean that they see them as lesser or that they don’t think about them. the idea that you can tell what a person’s moral beliefs are not based on what they’ve said or done but based on whether they engage with specific characters in a specific way in a specific space can Only work on the assumption that they engage with that space in a way that expresses the entirety of who they are or even their engagement with that specific media.

what I engage with on ao3 is different from what I engage with on tumblr, youtube, twitter, my friend’s dms, and my own head. people are going to engage with social media and fandom spaces specifically differently for different reasons. you can’t assume what the other parts of their lives look like based on this alone. 

second off, there can be other factors at play that influence people’s specific engagement with a fandom.

they specifically brought up the magnus archives as an example of a show with well written women. which while absolutely true, does Not mean that misogyny is the only option for why people wouldn’t engage with content about them as often. for me personally? a lot of fan content is soured because of how it presents jon. I relate to him very heavily as a neurodivergent and traumatized person, and he faces a Lot of victim blaming and dehumanization in the writing. sasha and martin are more or less the only main characters that Aren’t guilty of this, and sasha was out of the picture after season 1.

while this affects my enjoyment of fan content for these characters To Some Extent on it’s own (I love georgie, I love her a lot, but I can’t forget that she looked at someone and told them that they were better off dead because they couldn’t “choose” to not be abused), the bigger issue is fan content that Specifically doesn’t address the victim blaming and ableism as what it is, even presenting it as just Correct. 

this isn’t exclusive to the women in the show by any means, this is exactly why I avoid a lot of content about tim, but it affects a lot of the women who are main characters. that isn’t the Only reason, there’s more casual ableism and things that tear him down for other reasons (the prevalent theory that elias passed up on sasha because he’s afraid of how she’s More Competent In Jon In Every Single way. which comes with the unfortunate implications of jon being responsible for his own trauma because he just wasn’t competent enough to avoid it) but that’s the main one that squicks me out.

of course not all fan content does this, and I Do engage with content about these characters, but sometimes it’s easier to just stick with content that centers on my comfort character because it’s more likely to look at his character with the nuance required to see that it is victim blaming and ableism. 

it’s not enough to say that the characters are well rounded or well written and conclude that if someone isn’t consuming or creating content about them then it has to be due to misogyny and nothing else.

there’s also just like, the Obvious answer. two most prominent characters are two men that are in a canonical gay relationship, which draws in queer men/masc people on it’s own but the centering of their othering and trauma Particularly draws in traumatized queer people that are starved for content. georgie and melanie are both fleshed out characters in and of themselves, but their relationship with each other doesn’t have nearly as much direct screen time. and daisy and basira have a lot more screen time together and about each other, but their relationship is very intentionally non-canon because of its role as a commentary on cop pack mentality.

people are More Likely to create content for the more prominent relationship in the show and be drawn into the fandom through that relationship in the first place. I have no doubt that there Are misogynistic fans of the show, but focusing on the relationship and the characters that make you happy isn’t and indication that you’re one of them.

which brings us to the big one, the one that sparked me into writing this in the first place (and the last that I have time for if I’m being honest). the “common excuses” section in general is, extremely dismissive obviously but there’s only one section that genuinely upsets me. 

without copying and pasting what they said directly, it essentially boils down to this: while they recognize that gay and trans men are “allowed” to relate to men, they’re still Men which makes them misogynistic. Rather than acknowledge Why gay and trans men would engage with fan-content specifically that caters to them they present it as a given that it’s 100% due to misogyny anyways. they present queer men engaging with content about themselves as them treating women like they’re “unworthy of attention,” calling it a “patriarchal tendency” that they have to unlearn.

being gay and trans does not mean that you’re immune to misogyny, being a woman doesn’t even mean that you’re immune to misogyny, but that’s engaging in bad faith in a way that really puts a bad taste in my mouth. 

queer men aren’t just like, Special Men that have Extra Bonus Reasons to be relate to boys, they’re people who are more likely to Need fandom spaces to explore facets of themselves. and while you can Relate to any character, it feels good to be able to explore those aspect with characters that resemble you or how you see yourself.

when I first started actively seeking out fandom spaces in middle school I engaged with content about queer men more or less exclusively. at this point I had no concept of what trans people were, and wouldn’t begin openly considering that I might be a trans person until high school. I knew that I’d be happier as a gay man before I knew I could be a gay man, and that’s affected my relationship with fandom forever. 

I engage with most things pretty casually, reblogging meta and joke posts when I see them, but what I go out of my way to engage with is largely an expression of my gender identity and sexuality. I project myself onto a comfort character and then I Consume content for them because that was how I was able to express myself before I knew that I needed to. it’s not that girl characters aren’t “worthy” of me relating to them, it’s that I specifically go to certain fandom spaces to express and work through my gender and sexuality. that’s what I use those fandom spaces For.

I imagine that I’ll need this crutch less when I’m allowed to transition and if I ever find a relationship situation that works out for me. but also like, why should I? it’s not actually hurting anyone for me to explore my gender and sexuality through fanfic until the end of time. nor does it hurt anyone for me to focus on my comfort characters. 

fandom is personal comfort and entertainment, not a moral obligation. people absolutely should engage with women in media and real life with more nuance and energy than they do, but fandom spaces are not the place to police or judge that. 

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Wicked Game

Another round of the 5sos fic writing collab brought to you by @maluminspace​ and @h0tsos​. There are so many amazing writers involved and I highly recommend checking out the event master list linked below. Thank you to the Sagittarius sorceress  @sexgodashton​ for being very caring, patient, and kind while helping me tame this monster.  Massive shout out to @ghostofmashton​ for the photo edits, especially Ashton’s eye. that’s my favorite. You’re a rock star. Texas girls forever, love you to bits!

Event Master List

Prompt: Chef AU with Cashton

Dialogue Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met” First person to spot it in the fic and send me a screenshot gets a personalized blurb request.

Word Count: 20K+ Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. This first part is about 5K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

"Great job, guys, we couldn't have had a better opening weekend. Thank you so much for making it happen," Ashton told the two staff members in the kitchen who'd closed as he unlocked the back door.

"No problem boss, glad to be here. We made money this weekend. See ya tomorrow," DeSean told him as he left.

Ashton locked the door behind them and walked out into the empty dining room, his steel-toed boots echoing heavily on the distressed blonde faux hardwood floors. He stopped to adjust a few tables, double-checking sightlines and looking over the layout of the tables. The upside-down chair legs cast long shadows in the soft pink neon glow. 

He looked up at the sign above the bar that read "Anne-Marie's." He smiled, not caring if anyone thought it was cheesy to name his restaurant after his mother.  His mom had always been his lucky star, and he couldn't have gotten through the last couple of years without her. 

"You look so serious,' a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

"What the fuck Hima," Ashton yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I thought you were still in the kitchen." 

"The guys didn't leave me anything to do so I decided to change and have a drink with you before my brother gets here," she tossed her bag and chef's coat onto a stool grinning at Ashton. She hopped up to sit on the bar before swinging her legs around as she pushed off. Landing without a wobble she reached under the bar and grabbed a bottle of black label Bushmill's Irish Whiskey and two short glasses. 

"Straight for the good stuff, I like the way you think," Ashton smirked, taking a seat at the bar. 

"To simply mark the occasion, of course" she poured them each a shot before adding a splash of water.  She raised her glass, "Cheers to you, Boss, and to Anne-Marie's." 

They clinked glasses. "Couldn't have done it without you," he replied before taking a sip.

"Awwwwww thanks Ashtton, " she grinned at him. "Damn that's good, the whiskey makes me forgive the Irish for how dreadful Guinness is. Did you see Kevin Mackie snuck in last night? I expect a write up in the Metro on Tuesday and I know you saw Patricia Bennett," she rolled her eyes at the name.

"She makes herself hard to miss," he snorted. "I missed Mackie though. Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Because we were busy and I didn't have time for you to get all giggly and nervous. He got the crab puffs and the Mac and Brie and inhaled them. You were right about the nutmeg; I thought he was going to lick the plate."  She opened two bottles of beer before hopping back over the bar and taking a seat next to Ashton. 

"How did this weekend compare to the opening of ‘Lune Rouge’? Was it as good as the first time?" Hima finished her whiskey before shaking a pack of Camel Crush cigarettes out of her bag. 

"If you get ashes on the bar Paloma will flip her shit," Ashton warned. 

"I'm not afraid of her," Hima snipped, but she made sure to be careful. No sense in antagonizing their temperamental main bartender. 

"This opening was definitely smoother than the first one. We didn't know what the hell we were doing. The first night we ran out of duck fat and gorgonzola before the dinner rush was over. My sous chef's sister had to run to Whole Foods for emergency supplies. We got lucky the press ignored us for a couple weeks until we got a little buzz going. This time I knew what to expect but there was also more pressure," he paused, taking a pull on the bottle of beer. "This time I  expected to succeed right out of the gate." 

"You succeeded there," Hima stubbed her cigarette out in her empty glass. "I really need to quit." 

"You could get a puff bar and start vaping," he teased.

"I'm not a fucking junior varsity cheerleader. I can take my cancer like a big girl." She checked her phone. "Ugh it's almost nine, and it's gonna take me at least thirty minutes to get home. You're closing tomorrow with me right?" 

"Yeah, I'll be in around 11 all this week. Rafi is handling brunch with Gloria but I want to be here," Ashton double-checked his phone. "Tuesday I have that interview with Men's Life and they just emailed me." 

Hima saw his nose scrunch up as he read.  "What's wrong?" 

"I thought they were sending Taj, but instead of rescheduling the interview, they're sending Calum Hood," Ashton sneered. 

"Chill dude, it's not that bad," Hima was confused by the venom in his voice. "Yeah he's a bit of a goof, but he's hot and not a pretentious dickhead. They could've sent Felipe." 

"True, true," he grumbled as he saw a black Honda pull up outside. "Kabir is here." 

"Shit, ok see you tomorrow, Boss," she grabbed her stuff, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran out the door, locking it behind her. 

Ashton walked through once again. He made sure the lights were off in the employee lounge. Since many of his staff members used public transport or worked two jobs, Rafi had convinced Ashton to provide his staff with a decent place to take a break and get ready before or after work.  He built a small shower stall, lockers, and provided clean towels, and as his new kitchen manager, Rafi took responsibility for maintaining the space. Ashton took a last look at the bar, double-checking for any stray ashes Hima might have missed before setting the alarm, locking up, and heading home. 

Calum opened the email from his editor and swore loud enough to wake the scruffy brown terrier mix snoozing at his feet.

Hey Cal,

Sorry it's such short notice but Taj's mom had an emergency and I need you to cover for him. He's interviewing Ashton Irwin, remember him? He had the Lune Rouge a few years ago. Well, he's got a new place, diverse staff and we're doing a feature. Maybe even the cover if he's really pretty. Tuesday at 2 pm I'll send you the address and details after I talk to Taj. Oh, and my friend Nick is coming into town and I told him you'd show him around. It's been a while since you had a date but you'll like him. He's kinda short, but he's got big muscles, huge dick, perfect credit. You could do a lot worse.

Call me tomorrow

Sham

This isn't good, this isn't good. Calum's mind was racing. He rubbed his temples trying to think. Taj was notoriously reliable and responsible, so if he was taking off on short notice, it must be serious. It was just his bad luck it was Ashton Irwin. 

He usually covered travel and sports for Men's Life while Taj handled food and fashion. Calum didn't mind taking back food and dining for the time being. He'd started in that industry, working as a line cook while he went to school for journalism. He'd quit both when a flirty, older professor recommended him for an internship at California Culture and he managed to land a real job. Professor Davis had been highly disappointed to lose him as a student and catch him making out with her son who went to the same college. He'd found a tiny shitty apartment, spent his life on the road for work, and sent every penny he didn't need to live on to his family. He didn't even date for the longest time until he met a handsome blonde with sharp features and a sharper tongue.

He couldn't remember if it was four years ago or five, but he clearly recalled his review of Lune Rouge had not been nice. Calum was in a toxic relationship with the restaurant's sous chef at the time. He'd let his personal life spill over into his work for the first and only time. It wasn't something Calum was proud of and while he felt he owed Ashton an apology, the right time and place hadn't presented itself yet. He'd run into Ashton twice since then. The first time he was with his husband, and Calum wasn't about to humble himself in front of Luke. The second encounter came not long after their marriage broke up. Calum was dating a photographer at the time, when Ashton came to the photographer’s art show. They were briefly introduced but Ashton's chilly demeanor discouraged any further conversation, so Calum avoided him the rest of the evening. He remembered being unable to stop staring at the handsome chef with the sad eyes. He'd always hoped they'd bump into each other under better circumstances. I guess an interview will have to do.

********

Ashton sat out on his condo balcony overlooking Echo Park, taking in the night air and enjoying a second bottle of IPA. Hima was right, the opening had been a smash. Anne-Marie's had the best staff he'd ever had the pleasure of working with, and aside from a small mix up between gruyere and Havarti cheese, the opening had been smooth. The alcohol hummed in his veins as he allowed his mind to wander back five years. 

Lune Rouge's opening had been a chaotic mess of brilliance, balls, and blind luck. He was a year out of culinary school, newly married, and ecstatically in love with his husband. Luke was a trust fund baby; his dad ran a major studio. He put up the funding for their restaurant which procured a prime spot in trendy West Hollywood. Ashton had the idea of taking traditional French cuisine and turning it into "pub grub." Luke created a kitschy tacky cool interior with the ambiance of fairy light curtains, vintage 90's movie posters, an eye-popping pink and aqua come scheme.  Featuring a bartender who doubled as a DJ, the restaurant became an immediate hot spot.  

 The culinary press treated them like rock stars and it went to their head.  Ashton was portrayed as the mysterious boy genius, boisterous and foul-mouthed, he ran the back of the house, oversaw the business and created the menu. Luke, who's blonde-haired blue-eyed good looks were regularly described as "angelic", was the frontman, often schmoozing in the dining room, taking song requests, or slinging drinks behind the bar. They worked so well together until they didn't. 

Ashton shook his head, not allowing himself to linger on negative thoughts, not when he'd fought to regain balance. He'd spent the last year freeing himself from the wreckage of his partnership with Luke. Still, tonight after the opening, alone and overlooking the city lights, his mind kept going back to the exhilaration of that first opening night. After they stayed late with the crew for a drink to celebrate, Luke's hand wandered up Ashton's thigh causing him to almost choke on his tequila. Soon Luke started whining about all the paperwork he had to do before they could go home. The crew quickly bagged it out of there, not wanting to get roped into more work. 

Ashton swallowed at the memory before glancing around at the other balconies. It was late enough most of his neighbors should be asleep. Already hard, he reached down and squeezed his bulge through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. 

After letting everyone else out of Lune Rouge that first night he'd been puzzled to find Luke no longer at the bar. He heard noises coming from the office. When he opened the door, he found his husband, shirtless, and waiting for him. 

Ashton slid his hand into his pants swiping his thumb across the leaking tip. He heard a sliding glass door open and froze in place until he realized it was his neighbor below him chatting on the phone. He stroked himself and let his mind wander back to Luke. It had been too long since Ashton got laid, and Luke was still the best sex he'd ever had. He shuddered and bit his lip thinking about the way Luke grinned at him as he opened the office door. Before Ashton could say a word, Luke was sinking to his knees. A bit awkward given his long legs, but it didn't take long before he was letting Ashton fuck his throat. The thought of those blue eyes looking up at him as Ash's hands tangled in those blonde curls caused a moan to slip out, and his neighbor stopped talking at the sound. 

"I think somebody is having sex," he heard her whisper. He almost laughed. 

His dick was twitching flat against his stomach as he ducked back inside his bedroom, kicked off his pants, and grabbed a small tube of lube. Ashton shut off the light and stepped back outside. 

The breeze cooled his fevered skin as he stood there looking out at the city and stroking his dick. The idea that he could possibly be seen turned him on almost as much as his trip down memory lane.  He swallowed another moan thinking about how Luke's lips felt against his, their tongues tangled until he pulled back looking at Ashton with mischief and love before giving him a wink and turning around. 

Ashton's breath caught in his throat as he worked his cock thinking about it. The red and white striped pants his husband pranced around in that night had been blissful torment working him up until the moment he slid those pants down and bent over the desk.

"Come take what's yours, my love, I've been wanting you all night," he cooed, wiggling his hips. 

Luke was a whiny boy when he was getting pounded, and the memory sent Ashton closer to the edge. He felt his knees tremble as he increased his speed, the city lights becoming starbursts in his vision as he edged himself closer. At the moment of release, he swore he could feel Luke pushing back against him taking him in as deep as he could go. 

When Ashton opened his eyes, he found himself sweaty and streaked with his own seed. He was amazed he'd managed to stay quiet, but his neighbor was chatting away obliviously. He went back inside, cracked another beer, and took it with him into the shower, trying to focus on his day tomorrow.

 It was after midnight by the time he went to bed. His body was exhausted but the adrenaline from the opening weekend hadn't quite worn off. He found himself still restless and playing on his phone. After scrolling through Instagram, he found himself looking at the page belonging to the Galway Grill-- Ashton cringed at the name-- an Irish pub and microbrewery very recently opened by Luke and his boyfriend Finn. 

Ashton simmered with resentment perusing the menu; they'd recycled at least half of the Lune Rouge recipes, his creations. He'd heard they'd rushed their opening to launch the week before Anne-Marie's, and even with Daddy's deep pockets the decor looked slapped together, all flash no class. He came to a picture of the happy couple and couldn't help but notice how thin and tired Luke looked despite his huge smile. He felt a twinge of concern for his ex before pushing his phone away in disgust. Rolling out of bed, he headed to the bathroom and fished an orange prescription bottle out of the cabinet. He broke a valium in half and swallowed the smaller piece with a gulp of water straight from the faucet. He scrolled through different sounds on his phone before settling on crashing waves. He spent the next ten minutes stretching and practicing deep breathing to push out any lingering negativity and troubling thoughts. It was too late to drag up the past and there was nothing to be gained. Ashton crawled back under the duvet and sank into a deep sleep dreaming of blue eyes.

*********

Hima rolled into work a little after one, pleased to see a decent lunch crowd and multiple delivery orders going out. She ordered a chicken mojito wrap for her lunch and headed back to the office to find Ashton. She found him in his chair with his laptop open on his desk, a notebook in his lap while scrolling through his phone. 

"So what's the Monday morning report, Boss?" She asked, taking a seat across from him. 

Ashton was beaming as he spun the laptop around to show her. "We made 30% over our projected sales. We came in right at payroll, actually a little under if you can believe that." 

"I've checked the reservation book," she responded, flashing her phone. "We're booked solid for dinner Friday and Saturday and will call is 3 pm-7 pm. We're probably going to have to do that all week." 

"Whatever you need. This weekend is going to be bonkers. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to do something for the staff. That reminds me, I've got to talk to Maisie." He scribbled down a quick note.

"She's already on it," Hima laughed. "The servers who struggled are coming in for extra training with her and Dakota. I have no doubt she'll straighten them up or ship them out."  

Ashton nodded as Daniel knocked on the office door to bring their lunch. 

"How's it going out there? Let us know if you need anything," Ashton told him.

"We've got this, Boss, enjoy your lunch," Daniel closed the door behind him.

"He's Rafi's brother?" Hima asked before taking a big bite. 

"Cousin, Gloria is his sister," Ashton replied tucking into his roasted corn and quinoa salad with queso fresco. 

"Are you ready for this interview tomorrow? You look tired," Hima looked concerned. 

"I am tired," he shrugged. "I just wanna get this over with. I'm thrilled we're doing so well, but that's not what the press wants to talk about." 

"Don't think about it like that. Anne-Marie's will stand on her own. You've just gotta get through this week. I know it's a lot," her words were half-muffled by a napkin.

"Tomorrow is the worst of it. Mackie called and is available Tuesday at one or Thursday for dinner around four. Since he's already been here for dinner, I thought I'd let Rafi wow him this time," he told her.

"Good idea, try to keep it short because if he drinks he gets super chatty. He gave a lecture at school and came to the bar afterward; he would not shut up," she warned.

"Chatty bastard, got it," he replied and they both laughed. 

Anne-Marie's was his restaurant, but he couldn't have done it without Hima.  She was fresh out of culinary school working as a line cook at the Hilton when he'd discovered her a little over a year ago. Ashton only lasted four months before chafing under the corporate yoke and deciding to strike out on his own. She'd been the first person he'd hired for the restaurant, guaranteeing her first year's salary out of his own pocket. Rafi and DeSean were excellent managers for the kitchen, but Hima was a coach: she understood the business as a whole. He'd let her handle most of the press and promotion, and she'd scored two big interviews.

Gourmet Table had interviewed him last Thursday The piece wouldn't be that in-depth, but they'd spent three hours photographing food. He expected the Men's Life article to focus more on him and his personal life. Calum Hood was known for his sharp pen and take-no-prisoners style.  He'd given Lune Rouge two stars and a biting review during a brief stint at California Culture before he'd become known. It was five years ago, but Ashton still had the clipping somewhere. Calum had branded Lune's food as tasty and imaginative but thought the presentation was lacking in creativity. He'd ripped into the decor, calling it "somewhere between art house and frat house," and labeled Luke and Ashton "spoiled pretty boys pretending to be chefs." Luke had brushed it off with a laugh, but it still bothered Ashton. 

Unlike the Hemmings’, Ashton’s family didn't have money to throw around. He'd started at sixteen, washing dishes and peeling vegetables for Chef François at Bordeaux on Hollywood. He'd taken culinary classes after high school while working full time. Sadly, Chef François had a heart attack and retired around the time he met Luke. 

"You're not listening again," Hima complained, licking her fingers. "Rafi killed it with this wrap. The chicken is amazing, but the cucumber-mint salad and the tamarind chili mayo are next fucking level." 

"You're right, I'm not. Sorry about that," he pushed his plate aside.

"Ok, what's got you so rattled? You've handled the press like a champ up until now. Is it Mackie or Hood? Who needs to catch these hands?" Hima stood and assumed a fighter's stance, bouncing on her toes. 

"Easy there killer, I can defend my own honor. Mackie is an irritating little mosquito. He just wants gossip, but he's got enough readers so we all have to kiss his ass. Hood gave me one of the few bad reviews we got at Lune, and it stuck. He called us frat boys and said we were trying too hard," Ashton rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by saying it out loud. 

Hima raised her eyebrows and smirked, "I love it when you're petty. You're always so perfect and Zen, it's annoying." 

"My therapist would disagree. Oh shit, that reminds me," he straightened up in his chair and grabbed his phone. "I've got an appointment at 2:30. I'll be back before 4," he dropped his eyes to the floor. 

"Ashton," her voice was soft but commanding, and he looked up. "I don't know what's going on, and if you don't want to tell me that's fine. I want you to take care of yourself, whatever that takes. Ok?" He nodded and she smiled, "You can tell Dr. Claire that I've confirmed her for 8 pm Saturday, and you're going to personally cook her dinner. We've got the 50th anniversary that night so maybe you could flex and make your Pavlova's? I'll get the berries myself." 

"It's a deal; we can comp them champagne, too. I'd better get going before I get yelled at. She's a stickler for punctuality, I think it's a British thing."  

"I'll hold things down until you get back," Hima gathered up the dishes and headed out with Ashton right behind her. 

*********

Ashton drew a deep breath and exhaled through his nose as the reporter settled in the chair across from him.  Kevin Mackie's column in L.A. Metro was the definitive opinion for restaurants on the West Coast. His readers loved the snarky tone, celeb sightings, and bitchy gossip that peppered his column. His reviews could make or break new restaurants. 

"Let me start off by saying I love the decor of this place. It's rustic, but not in that played out, hipster-in-the-woods nonsense," he leaned in and lowered his voice towards the end of the comment with a coy smirk. 

"You'll find no Mason jars here," Ashton replied, taking the bait. Kevin liked people who liked him, and his most recent column was a snarky takedown of "Pinterest style interiors." Ashton found the article tedious and uninspired, but there was no need to be antagonistic right out of the gate. 

Ashton watched as the reporter ordered his lunch from their server Zia. He guessed Kevin to be in his forties, and he thought he could see fresh hair plugs, bleached blonde, and a bit of Botox. Rumor had it, he'd recently split with his long-time girlfriend over a fling with a much younger waiter. Ashton tried not to pay attention to industry gossip. However, his personal problems made their way into the column more than once, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the other man's problems. 

After they'd both ordered, Kevin sat back and took a sip of his Pellegrino water and smacked his lips. "I was here the other night and I have to admit I was prepared to be underwhelmed. A menu based on sandwiches and comfort food sounded like an upscale Applebee's, but I really liked it despite myself. I was surprised to see your main girl was on the mature side, but she's efficient as hell so I get the trade-off." 

Ashton's body tensed at the insult to Maisie, and he took a deep breath. Exhaling through his nose he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Kevin was prattling on with some bit of gossip as Ashton sipped on his iced coffee. 

"So let's start with something simple and ease our way into the rough stuff," Kevin set his voice recorder on the table between them. "Tell me how you formulated your top-secret house coffee blend." 

Ashton broke into a wide grin as he described taking two months to travel and sample different beans, learn more about the roasting and blending process. Kevin sipped his coffee and nodded as if deep in thought, but his eyes kept wandering to Ashton's biceps. He'd been baking this morning so he smelled of cinnamon, his black t-shirt damp and clingy from sweating under his chef coat.

"So we sell the house blend all year, but we have single-source coffee that's seasonal, all of it fair trade," Ashton finished proudly. 

"Coffee has always been your thing if I remember correctly," Kevin said.

"True, true, and once I started roasting my own beans it became a true obsession." 

Kevin followed it up with a couple more softball questions about menu details and sandwiches. Ashton expounded on his love of food. "Cooking for someone is a simple way to show care, to be enjoyed almost as much as dining should be. Food is caring and comfort; it sustains us. It brings people together in a shared experience."

 "Ooh that's a nice pull quote," Mackie chuckled. "I love when y'all have media training. It makes the bullshit flow much smoother.

Ashton seethed but said nothing. He'd watched this man's pettiness wreck a good opening, and Ashton couldn't do that to his crew. Zia brought their lunch. Ashton noticed Kevin had also ordered the chicken mojito wrap. 

"This looks delicious. I think it's a nice touch that you've got so much, let's say diversity, in your restaurant. That you're actually letting them make their own food makes your menu more interesting. Not all restaurants get it. Please tell me you've seen how horribly Finn ripped you off for that tacky Irish pub," Kevin glanced up at him a tiny smirk playing on

"I haven't paid any attention to that," Ashton wanted to end the interview right there. 

"Oh come on, you've had to see how much he's trying to recreate the magic you and Luke once had. The menu is tired, I don't give a fuck if he is Irish. Finn has no imagination yet fancies himself an impresario. Luke's still got it though. He even asked when I was coming here. I didn't tell him of course, I'm a professional after all." 

"Of course," Ashton nodded checking out of the conversation. The reporter talked as he ate which given the wrap he was eating proved especially messy and little flecks of food kept flying his way. Ashton watched the door, nodding at customers, silently willing someone to come and save him. Kevin was still talking about himself when Hima and Zia came out of the kitchen. Ashton tried to catch their eye when he felt a hand on his arm. 

"I wanna ask you about that one," Kevin leaned in so he could almost whisper.

"Who? Hima? What about her?" Ashton was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer. 

"What's the deal? I've only ever seen you with Luke. Did your palette change that much? India must've been a real spiritual awakening for you huh?" Kevin winked at him, thinking he was clever. 

Ashton controlled his breathing trying to keep his temper in check. He looked over at the reporter who kept talking oblivious to the situation. 

"Who doesn't like trying something exotic. She seems like a smart cookie. She's darker than most Indian girls you see, like a rich brown butter sauce. I bet she tastes like tumeric though." 

"Get out of my restaurant" Ashton hissed, his hands gripping the table to restrain himself from physical violence. "You are not going to insult my staff, my friends, in their restaurant." 

Kevin started to speak but Ashton cut him off.

"Not another fucking word" he kept his voice at a low growl so as not to cause a scene. He noticed a couple of the closest tables were already watching them. "You've said enough and I'm barely holding back as it is. Get out of my restaurant, don't ever come back, don't ever speak to me again, and if you trash me in this review I promise you I will find you and fuck you up personally." Ashton stood up and Kevin flinched, the sight would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so furious. He stepped back and the reporter scrambled out of his seat leaving his lunch unfinished. Ashton walked back into the kitchen, Hima fast on his heels. He kicked the door open to the break room and headed for the speed bag hanging in the corner. He'd learned the hard way punching walls usually resulted in the wall winning the fight so he'd given himself something easier on his hands. 

Hima watched him from the door, his back and biceps rippling as he went two minutes at full speed. When he finally turned around she could see the anger had cooled somewhat. She hated that her boss looked incredibly sexy when he was angry. 

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" She asked when he turned back around. 

"Nope, it'll just piss me off all over again, and I gotta get ready for another fucking interview. With a guy who already doesn't like me," Ashton put this coat back on and headed into the line to check on Rafi. 

At least the second interview can't be worse, she thought, wishing she believed it. 

*********

Calum eased his beat up Range Rover into the parking lot of Anne-Marie's amongst the Mercedes, Audi's, and Teslas. He cursed the traffic when he checked the time. He was late, and they were busy. Not a good look he thought, grabbing his bag. 

He smiled at the ladies waiting for a table before introducing himself to the impossibly serene hostess. He was quickly led to a table in an alcove not far from the kitchen. As he pulled out his voice recorder and notebook, he noticed a young woman heading his way. Her black hair was knotted tightly in a bun on top of her head, and her chef's coat had a large streak of what might be hollandaise sauce. He remembered his editor, Jacqueline, telling him Anne-Marie's had a female sous chef. He checked the notes she'd given him quickly as she was stopped by a server. Hima, Culinary Institute of America graduate, 23, Indian maybe? 

"Hello I'm Hima Singh, you must be Calum Hood," she greeted him. From up close, he noticed that her eyes were a rich golden brown and that her smile didn't reach her eyes. He chalked it up to her youth; his editor said she was 23 but she looked like a teenager. He mentally stopped himself there. He'd become jaded by one too many husband/wife teams in recent years trying to rebrand a post-divorce startup as a "new adventure." While the divorce was true, Calum knew Ashton's history.

"Yup that's me, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hima," he shook her hand, relieved to see her relax a bit. 

"Chef Irwin will be out shortly. He's helping with a problem in the back" she glanced towards the kitchen, and Calum had a feeling she was lying.

"Can I get you something while you wait? Do you like coffee? We have a house blend cold brew Chef Irwin selected himself that we roast and grind on-site," she asked motioning towards the sign listing the daily selection of teas and coffee. 

"Thanks, but maybe not coffee. I'm nervous enough without more caffeine," he admitted, "but the lavender and blackberry infused lemonade sounds amazing." He smiled and her face softened. 

"Absolutely," she signaled to Zia who brought Calum his drink and a basket of warm, fluffy yeast rolls with Anne Marie's cinnamon honey butter. The smell reminded Calum he'd skipped breakfast as his stomach began to rumble. 

"So you're Chef Irwin's sous chef? I heard a rumor you were a partner as well," he asked, almost drooling as he tore into the soft bread, watching the steam escape. 

"Yes sir," Hima's smile finally reached her eyes, and she sat down across from him. "When he got his core team together for Anne Marie's, there's three of us total. Desean and Rafi are his kitchen managers, and he gave us the opportunity to buy in as minority investors, no pun intended." 

"These rolls are incredible. Please take one before I finish this whole basket and ruin my lunch. How long have the three of you worked for Ashton, excuse me, Chef Irwin?" He asked.

"Desean and Rafi were part of his Lune Rouge crew. They go way back, but he met me fresh out of school and took me under his wing," she told him.

"Did you go to CIA?" Calum was jotting down notes, getting a feel for the story.

"I wish, it's so pretty up there. My twin brother attended Brown, and I went to Johnson and Wales so we could stay close." 

"You're a twin? Is he a chef as well?" Calum asked.

"Are you kidding? He's a lawyer, of course, my parents had to have one in the family," Hima laughed. 

Zia appeared beside their table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rafi is looking for you, Hima." 

A worried frown replaced her warm smile and Calum felt his nerves bubbling back up. He glanced around and caught sight of Ashton, flushed and sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, poking his head around the corner. Their eyes met, and Calum felt like he'd been hit by lightning.  

Hima saw his reaction and whipped around to see what Calum was looking at. Spotting her boss she quickly excused herself and hurried to the back. 

Zia cleared her throat and Calum realized she was still standing next to his table.

"Would you like to try Rafi's plantain skewers while you wait? It's my favorite thing here, and it'll leave room for whatever these geniuses cook up," she asked with a smile and a wink. 

He nodded and she headed to the server station to put the order in. Calum looked around and started taking notes.  The most striking thing about the decor was how they'd used diffused skylights for soft lighting to accent the Nakashima-style crafted wooden furniture.  Thanks to his Mom’s love of Antiques Roadshow when he was younger Calum discovered his preference for natural grain wood and bespoke pieces. He liked the use of pastel neon signs to complement the muted green and blue tones of the mosaic tile floors and he thought the framed pictures of what he assumed were family photos of the staff provided a really nice personal touch. The largest photo was in the bar of Ashton and his mother, the restaurant's namesake, Anne Marie. 

Zia set a plate down in front of him. "The boss will be out in a minute., Let me get you some more tea," she told him. 

The skewers consisted of chunks of pineapple, plantain, red onion, and sweet potato grilled and dusted with chili powder and brown sugar served with a yogurt sauce for dipping. 

Calum was almost finished with the first one when Ashton came out of the back, making his way towards him. The chef stopped to talk to several customers, the hostess, and Zia before he made it to Calum's table. Cal licked his fingers, wiping his hands clean with a Sani-wipe before standing up and offering a handshake. 

Ashton took his hand and Calum wasn't expecting it to feel so soft. Caught off guard Calum stammered out an introduction as he sat, but he noticed Ashton just nodded, barely listening. 

"If today isn't a good day we can reschedule," Calum sipped his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

"I'm here aren't I?" Ashton snapped. He folded his arms across his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing at Calum. "I still remember your first review you know."

Calum's pulse was racing. He hated confrontation, and he hadn't expected Ashton to kick off right away. He knew he'd better suck it up and apologize if this wasn't going to go completely off the rails. 

"Listen, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been such a dickhead."  As he spoke Ashton scoffed at him and Calum felt his cheeks get warm.  "I was young and stupid. I let something personal affect that review. I'm sorry." 

"Personal? With Luke? What do you mean by that?" Ashton went from annoyed to hostile.

Calum realized he'd said something wrong but wasn't sure what exactly. He was floundering trying to think of what to say next. 

"Nothing with Luke, no no no. I was involved with Finn and we weren't getting along. It's so stupid I know, but I think you're a great chef. The new place looks incredible, and Hima is a delight." 

The anger drained from Ashton's face, leaving him looking empty and sad. His head dropped to his chest, and Calum held his breath waiting for him to speak. 

"I'm really sorry, it's not you, but I can't do this right now. Maybe we can reschedule or something. My apologies, but I have to get back to work," Ashton mumbled, standing up. 

Calum spotted Hima watching them from the podium, chewing on her lip, her black eyes wide with concern as Ashton hurried back to the kitchen. Calum started to get up but she was too quick for him. 

"Well, aren't you lucky. I'm going on my lunch and I hate to eat alone," she slid back into the seat across from him. "Please forgive my boss. He's had a rough day, but I'm better company anyway." She waved to Zia who headed their way. "You gotta try the toasted gnocchi with gorgonzola cream sauce if you like cheese, but if you want something lighter the apple carrot kale wrap is excellent too," she smiled at him, and to her relief he smiled back, both of them realizing the situation might be salvageable after all.

(A/N: y’all my tag list, much like my life, is a hot mess. I know some of what I write isn’t for everyone. If you want tagged in part 2 of this fic or my upcoming smuts, pink kink series, or dad!calum series please let me know. I apologize for my previous mistake)

@sublimehood​ @tea4sykes​ @be-ready-when-i-say-go​ @scribblesos​ @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​ @wildmichaelflower​ @castaway-cashton​ @damselindistressanu​ @notinthesameguey​ @cashtonasfuck​ @irwinkitten​ @mermaidcashton​ @malumsmermaid​

[praisetheaxolotl]

I’d like to get your thoughts on this, hope this is okay!

Look at this quote from this article:

“It’s easy to pick on the “this wouldn’t be happening if these characters were coded as male,” but it’s nonetheless true—as a fan of the unrepentantly (gloriously) awful Bill Cipher, among others, I can promise you I see it regularly.”

I immediately thought of this blog when I read this. 

Not saying you’re misogynist, of course. This blog is just so fascinating, and for someone to dismiss it all like that is frustrating. 

I mean, of course they weren’t referring to you directly, but still. 

For someone to brush off people’s interesting, thought-provoking theories as nothing but misogyny is kind of close-minded, in my opinion. 

But this makes me curious. Do you think you’d still feel the same way about Bill if he was more feminine-coded? Would it matter?

And what do you think about that statement? Are you as annoyed by it as I am?

It’s always alright to get my thoughts on certain subjects, Anon! And lucky for you, I have lots of thoughts on this.

First of all, thank you for liking my blog! I put a lot of work into it, and I still look back on everything I’ve done here fondly. This blog is my only fandom-specific blog that’s still semi-active even after I’ve left the fandom. 

And, about what you said about misogyny... I don’t actually think that’s what the article is talking about. It’s not misogyny for someone to pick apart Bill Cipher, but it’s misogyny if someone offers that level of potential depth to a male character while instantly condemning a female character. 

But... honestly, from my experience? These two groups of people are different groups. 

I used to run in those “anti” circles, back in 2015? 2016? Before the whole “SU criti/cal” thing started to become popular. But I could still kinda see hints of it? It was back when SU was hailed as THE perfect show, before people knocked it off the pedestal they put it on. 

Anyway. These people hated redemption arcs. They saw Bill as this irredeemable monolith of a character, and any alternate interpretations were met with outright malice. I got called out once for, and I am not joking, headcanoning Bill as an abuse victim. They claimed I was “excusing his actions,” but when I asked to please show a screenshot of where I said that this excused him, they couldn’t. Because I never said that. 

(I ended up publishing the whole headcanon on my main blog, and people loved it. That reception is what pushed me to create this blog.)

I don’t doubt at least some of those people became the type to nitpick SU. So I feel that the same people that nitpick male characters are also the type to nitpick female ones. They’re just nitpickers with a black-and-white sense of morality.

But there are always exceptions to the rule- people who love morally gray male characters but hate morally grey female characters. Yes, some of these motivations may be spurred on by misogyny. But what frustrates me is the initial assumption of malice. I’m not saying the article itself is guilty of this, as it seems to be speaking to a general problem, but more those tumblr posts or tweets trying to “call people out” if they gravitate towards more morally gray male characters than female ones.

Which brings me to my answer to your question: No, I don’t think I would like Bill as much, had he been a woman.

But please let me explain first. 

First, you need to know some facts about me:

I am transmasculine. (Not a trans man- I’m nonbinary.)

I have a personality disorder. I’m not comfortable disclosing which one, but it’s one of the cluster B ones.

I was abused, and my reaction to the abuse was extreme anger and irritability. (Hence the PD.)

Another important fact is that my abuser was a woman. She’s my mother. I had to live with constant emotional abuse, gaslighting, neglect and other forms of malice for my whole life. I’m still not free yet, and I’m turning 20 in a month. (No, literally, exactly one month to the day.)

I was abused my whole life by a vindictive, manipulative shit of a woman, and it made me into a vindictive, manipulative shit of a person. The key difference is that I am actively trying not to be a vindictive, manipulative shit.

When I pick apart asshole male characters, I see myself in them. I do a deep dive into the whys, the hows the whos of why they ended up the way that they did, because it makes me feel liberated. It’s personally liberating to see someone like me, whom everyone sees as a monster, have a backstory that shows that monsters aren’t born, they’re made. It’s liberating to see them try and change, it’s liberating to give them someone to help them change no matter what, it’s liberating to look harder. Because that’s what I wanted. I wanted someone to look at me and see past the violent, angry 15 year old that I was, and actually help me. I wanted someone to see I was a victim, that I didn’t like being the way that I was. I wanted someone to help me and be there for me, even though I was messed up and awful.

(But don’t feel too bad for me- A few years ago I met someone wonderful through this very fandom who was exactly the kind of person I needed. And last November I proposed to him and he said yes!)

When I see a morally grey female character... all I can see is my abuser. I see in them the person that hurt me. I don’t want to look deeper, just as I don’t care about my mother’s long rambles about how shitty her childhood was. Was she also abused? Yes. Do I care? Nope! I don’t feel that same drive to pick apart female characters that act like the male ones I like, because of my trauma.

 And honestly? Just because I gravitate towards male characters more doesn’t make me a misogynist. How I treat actual real life women does. I do examine my behavior to make sure I’m not being misogynistic- in fact, it was worry that I was being misogynistic in my dislike of these characters that made me think hard enough to have such a long answer to your question. 

Maybe someone liking only male characters is an indicator of misogyny. Maybe it isn’t. I’m not shy about talking about what happened to me but people should not have to disclose their traumas in order to be “allowed” to consume fiction in a way some stranger doesn’t like. 

And there actually is a specific subset of morally grey female characters I like: my own OCs. 

I guess it’s the fact that I created them and thus can control how they act? They’re all assholes and I love them so much, but I don’t feel that same aversion as I do with characters that aren’t mine. Because the lack of control I had over my own abusive situation is what fucked me up so hard, but now I do have the control. If I watch a TV show, I don’t have any control over what the characters do, they’re not mine. But I do have control over my OCs.

(Psst- if you wanna see those OCs, I’ve since moved to the Invader Zim fandom, and am working on a HUGE fic series for it. (It’s not published yet- I’m working on it behind the scenes.) Those OCs I’m talking about star heavily. Here’s my blog, if you’re interested. I kinda wanna do some metaposting for that fandom, too, but I’ve no idea where to start. I love the Irkens, though, haha. Anyway if any of you happen to like IZ and have a meta-question for me... the askbox IS open!)

Anyway. This got really long. But misogyny in fandom is a thing, and the article does call it out well. I just get frustrated that people immediately assume malice. The statement does annoy me, but because it does happen if the characters are coded as male, too. I see it all the time. People just tend to either be fans of the morally grey, or... not.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Can we have the tea on why firefly getting cancelled was a good call tho?

My confidence on this website grows in direct proportion to my follower count, and thus the opinions I post get steadily more controversial.  I actually got a mostly-positive response to my pro-Twilight post, so [glances around nervously] [dons fake beard] here it is:

IMHO, the producers were right to meddle in Firefly after its pilot, and they were right to cancel it after 12 episodes.

I enjoy Firefly.  I’ve rewatched “Safe” and “Out of Gas” over a dozen times, I had a Serenity poster on my wall in college, and I’ve got Mal’s quote about statues as an epigraph in my current NaNoWriMo project.  However.

First: they were right to kill the pilot.  (And I don’t mean Wash.)

The biggest problem with the first first episode, in a nutshell, is Mal.  He’s a potentially intriguing character, but he’s not likable, he’s not competent, and he’s not entertaining.  No antihero has to be all three, but every antihero has to be at least one, right off the bat.  A couple examples of antiheroes that got whole shows:

Dexter Morgan (Dexter) is a literal serial killer, so definitely not likable, but the pilot showcases that he’s terrifyingly competent with cellophane and also has an entertaining interior monologue.

Greg House (House MD) is questionably competent, and not that likable, but he’s highly entertaining because he immediately makes us laugh.

Jed Bartlett (West Wing) is largely incompetent at social matters, and he’s not funny at first, but he’s immediately charismatic and likable.

Frank Castle (Punisher) isn’t classically entertaining, and he’s not likable, but he’s shown as highly competent from minute one.

Malcolm Reynolds isn’t funny at first.  He responds to insults by punching Simon in the face or throwing Jayne out of the room, barely tolerates Zoe’s fond teasing, and doesn’t joke around much.  Malcolm Reynolds isn’t likable at first.  He acts openly contemptuous toward Book’s and Inara’s chosen professions, seriously considers killing Simon for trying to protect River, loots corpses, and ignores Kaylee.  Malcolm Reynolds isn’t competent at first.  He fails twice to find a fence for the protein blocks, fails to detect either Simon’s or Dobson’s lies, gets himself and his first mate shot in a bad deal, and barely escapes with his life.  He tells Simon that any day where he manages to keep his ship in the air counts as a success.

I don’t want to watch an entire show about this guy after seeing just the pilot, and I sympathize with anyone who feels the same way.  The only moment in 120 minutes of screentime that intrigues me is the smash cut between Mal announcing to Simon that Kaylee died and Mal roaring with laughter with the rest of his crew over a prank well-pulled.  It’s competent, funny, likable, and enough to make me want to tolerate this guy long enough to see what he’s going to do next.  I don’t blame the producers for demanding that we see Simon-pranking guy more, Simon-punching guy less.

The other tone or setting inconsistencies in the pilot — the characters riding horses when they’ve got a faster-than-light ship, the dirt and platinum constructions, the Chinese vendors offering street meat made out of dog, the heroic depiction of the vainglorious Confederate Browncoat cause, the crew all being fluent in Mandarin but not having a single Asian character in the whole cast* — make it hard to get a sense of what the show is meant to be.  The different elements just don’t make sense together.

Contrast that with “The Train Job,” the second first episode.  There are undeniably Western and sci-fi elements, but they actually make sense together: instead of characters inexplicably swapping land speeders for horses, there’s a spaceship swooping low over a bullet train.  Crow uses frontier weaponry, but it’s an intimidation tactic, and he does own a blaster.  The Asian-influenced elements make a lot more sense, appearing mostly as background details that hint at a melding of cultures.  Mal is warm and affectionate with his crew, willing to joke around to entertain the audience, and at least 43% less misogynistic toward Inara.  Niska plays an important role in plot and character, setting up the possibility that we haven’t heard the last of this plot and also acting as a foil to the Serenity crew, who might kill the occasional unarmed prisoner but at least do their best not to poison entire towns.

Is “The Train Job” as unique an episode as “Serenity”?  Nope.  Does it do a better job at getting someone who’s never heard of this show before to want to tune in next week?  I think so.

And then the cancellation.

Obviously, we’ll never know if people would’ve kept on turning in, because the series got less than a single season.  And I think that was the right call, from the producers’ point of view.  Firefly as a show might not have had the budgetary demands that, say, Game of Thrones did, but even an amateur like me can take one look at that series and go “damn, that looks expensive.”

There are NINE (9!) main characters, with series-regular salaries.

CGI was a lot more expensive and time-consuming in 2002, and literally every episode includes some exterior footage of the ship.

Every single episode involves the characters, or at least the cameras, leaving the ship and going to different phantasmagorical settings.

Even “Out of Gas” and “Objects in Space” had to take the time and money to build the junkyard and Jubal Early’s ship, respectively.

“Trash,” “Serenity,” “Jaynestown,” “The Message,” and “Heart of Gold” each introduces (and requires a build for) an entirely new fake planet.

Every single episode involves minor characters, and over half of them involve crowd scenes that require hundreds of extras.

Horses.  And cows.  Cost money.  As Wash says, shoulda gone with the counterfeit beagles.

The Serenity set itself was built to scale.  That’d save money in the long term, but in the short term required more camerawork to actually film in partially-enclosed locations.  When you add in the fact that the on-planet shots always required dollies, cranes, and similar equipment, it adds up.

On a similar note, “the Firefly shot” (as it became known) requires days of planning followed by hours of shooting to include all of the characters in one single extremely long camera pan (almost five minutes long, the second time it happens).  As a stylistic choice, it was a pricey one.

If Firefly had been spectacularly successful right from the start, it might have been able to justify its enormous budget.  The fact that it was modestly successful didn’t justify the amount of money it was sucking from other projects.  Over 90% of shows that make it as far as network deals never even get a pilot; over 90% of shows that go so far as shooting a pilot never make it past that first episode.  The network decided to spread the love (and the budget) around, rather than sinking it all into a single project currently taking the place of maybe a dozen other potential shows.

Not only that, but Firefly didn’t have a ton of options for cutting its budget down.  It could use fewer camera tricks, but that wouldn’t change the need for CGI just to convey the basic premise of the show.  It could cut a character or two, but the cast would still be unusually large.  It could have fewer on-planet scenes, but there’s only so much one can do with the characters if they’re cooped up inside their ship the whole time.  Firefly was also leeching resources away from that team’s two other enormously successful projects – Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel — and the low ratings of Buffy’s season 6 and Angel’s late season 3 into season 4 reflect that fact.  If it’d been allowed to continue, Firefly ran the risk of killing both those golden geese without ever getting to the point of producing eggs itself.

Do I wish there was more of the show out there?  Yes.  Do I wish the show had had time to evolve, hopefully into something with fewer problems of casual racism?  Hell yes.  Would I have pulled the plug as well, if I’d been in the room when it happened?  Probably yes.

*I am aware of the theory that, given the heavily Asian-influenced settings in the “Safe” flashbacks, the popularity of “Tam” as a Chinese last name, the choice of dark-haired light-skinned actors, and specific elements of the family’s pressure to excel but conform, that the Tams are meant to be Chinese.  Given that all four actors are white, and that there are already ample problems with anti-Chinese racism in this show, I strongly prefer not to ascribe to that theory.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Margaret Atwood's "The Testaments": a long-awaited Handmaid's Tale sequel fulfills its promise

When Margaret Atwood published "The Handmaid's Tale" back in 1985, it was at the dawn of the Reagan era, when the gains made by feminism and other liberation movements trembled before an all-out assault mounted by a bizarre coalition of the super-rich and the (historically apolitical) evangelical movement; 35 years later, even more ground has been lost and in many ways it's hard to imagine a more apt moment for Atwood to have published a sequel: The Testaments.

Still, you could be forgiven if you were a little nervous about the prospect of a sequel to such an old favorite. After all, the (excellent) Handmaid's Tale TV series has catapulted the novel out of the shallow waters of literary fame and into the deeps of blockbuster TV currency, to the extent that feminist protesters have started donning handmaids robes as a shorthand for their opposition to the authoritarian, misogynistic currents surging in contemporary politics.

But it's been 35 years: do we need another Handmaid's novel? Mightn't it be enough for the brilliant tributes like Alderman's The Power or Chelsea Cain and Kate Niemczyk's Cat People to carry on the work? A cynic might find the timing of The Testaments suspicious, smacking of cashing in.

That cynic would be wrong.

The Testaments is brilliant.

You may have figured that out already (after all, it shared this year's Booker Prize), but I have only just found time to read it (I listened to the outstanding, multi-voice audiobook which also features cameos by Atwood) and I wanted to say a few things about it.

Fundamentally, this is a book about how fragile our norms are, and the incredible resiliency of the people who are ground underfoot when those norms are jettisoned.

The Testaments provides not just a sequel to The Handmaid's Tale: it braids together the secret diaries and interviews of the survivors of Gilead, the fascist theocracy that seizes most of the USA in a coup.

By exploring the revolutionary birth and slow decline of Gilead, and by confining herself to first-person narratives by characters (some of whom predate the coup, some of whom are in the second or third generation of those living under Gilead's rule), Atwood is able to show how "good" people rationalize their complicity with atrocities and mass murder, and how quickly the children and grandchildren of those whom we'd recognize as "normal" take on the totalizing doctrine of authoritarian terror, emerging with values that would have been unrecognizable to their own parents just a few years before.

With a broader cast of characters, Atwood is able to flesh out much of the internal workings of Gilead -- something that she was able to handwave away in the first book thanks to her narrator's low status and narrow aperture on her world -- and, in so doing, demonstrate the corrosive rot that is the handmaiden (!) of authoritarianism, as whisper campaigns, denunciations, personal enrichment, corruption and blackmail cinch the lives of everyone in such a society in an ever-tightening, claustrophobic straightjacket of terror and hypocrisy.

And though Atwood's society's strictures are a blend of the toxic misogyny of Taliban and Saudi doctrine filtered through Dominionist Christian dogma, they are also recognizably derived from contemporary political struggles, from the leadership styles of far-right authoritarian ideologues in the USA and abroad, the heavily armed mystics who seize federal lands with the help of cultist conspiracists.

Atwood isn't shy about positioning her Gilead and its resistors in the current struggle between fascism and antifascists: her Texan antifa guerrilla fighters call themselves the Lincoln Brigade, while the "Aunts" -- vicious, violent, murderous gender-traitor collaborators -- live in a walled convent whose social hub is the Schlafly Cafeteria.

The Testaments covers fascism in the round: much of the action is set in Canada, living uneasily along its border with Gilead, fancying itself free from the moral rot of its larger neighbor, even as it is being coopted by that brutal, 800-lb gorilla to its south (this is also something Jo Walton dealt with brilliantly in her "small change" alternate histories, in which the Nazis win WWII and "neutral" Britain finds itself butted up against a fascist neighbor who relentlessly pushes it towards authoritarian collaboration).

More interesting still are the microcosmic stories of the "little people" who live under fascism: both the true believers who have no idea that their leaders are faithless cynics (and whose wrath those leaders secretly fear) and the most downtrodden women of Gilead, who nurse their human imperative to be free of oppression down through the generations.

All of this, and on top of it, The Testaments is -- like Handmaid's Tale -- a corker of a novel, fast paced, exciting, and beautifully plotted, with many twists and turns and suspense for days.

In her afterword, Atwood says that she had 35 years to think about what else might be going on in Gilead, off the stage of Handmaid's Tale -- its history, its geopolitics, its environmental crisis, its future. It shows: this is a superbly crafted novel, decades in the making, and Atwood clearly capitalized on ever minute of those intervening years.

The Testaments [Margaret Atwood/Nan A. Talese]

https://boingboing.net/2019/10/22/aunt-lydia-humanized.html

[chlopernicus]

Blog Post 2: Un-Pinterest-ed

Through exploring the wonderfully stereotypical and relatively misogynistic world of Pinterest, I find my expectations: met. Lets set the scene with a little bit of history; Pinterest is a private company owned by two

straight, 

cisgender, 

non-disabled, 

men.

Ben Silbermann, who is of Asian decent, and Evan Sharp, who is white. 

As I did not have a Pinterest profile, my partner and I thought it would be interesting for me to create an account. To start, we of course, had to check off some boxes. The first question to pop-up asked, “How would you describe yourself?”, with the following boxes labeled “Male”, “Female”, or “Enter Custom Gender”. To me this becomes an issue that presents itself far too often in social media, and anywhere where you are required to check-off boxes, and that is the label you choose to check becomes the label that subconsciously defines you. Being put into a box is not comforting for everyone, and it is these small notions that become encoded within us psychologically, influencing how we view ourselves and the world around us. Under the question they force you to answer before moving forward, it reads, “This helps us show you more relevant content,” implying that how you define your gender will result in how someone else will decide to filter the world around you, and inherently give you less choice or freedom. It also implies that our gender is one of the most important factors in defining interests.

There is also the issue of the “custom gender” box. This completely negates the complexity that exists within gender and excludes a lot of people who fall into the demeaning “other” category, that we too often see as an option when checking off boxes. This is a very ignorant and lazy way of trying to create an all inclusive space, and leaves a large population feeling completely underrepresented and seemingly less important, by grouping anyone who does not identify as “male” or “female” under a blanket of insensitivity. 

Moving forward, I decided it’d be interesting to see what content would be generated if I typed in my custom gender as “transgender”, and we were on our way to actually viewing content. 

The next step was selecting categories that would further filter the content we would be exposed to. In analyzing these categories we found that there were very few topics to be considered “masculine” and all of the photos used to represent other categories were beautiful, white, women. The trending categories included topics such as “weddings” and “relationships”. After selecting roughly six in attempt to choose a mix of “masculine” and “feminine” categories, we went on to view the content feed only to find ourselves further bombarded with more beautiful, white, women. Even diving into categories like “cars” we were only seeing pictures of cars, or pictures or women standing next to cars, with many of them hiding their faces. Women were commonly depicted as faceless, nameless, bodies. The only men we were seeing were either standing next to a woman, shirtless, or modeling some chic clothing.  The only relationships we saw were heterosexual, and of course, both people were very attractive, and happily in love. It felt like scrolling through a list of advertisements.

After doing some research, we unsurprisingly found that 81% of users are female. The aspect of this that left me wondering, was the fact that the company is owned by two straight guys. It definitely helps to understand the limited, stereotypical, and hetero-normative content. On the other hand though, it makes me wonder about the idea of homophily that Dustin Kidd discusses and how heavily it resonates when he states “it is often used to explain the durability...of male dominance in an era of ostensible equal rights for women”. It is quite staggering to see the dominance of men play out on a social media platform in such a large way, especially on an outlet primarily used by women. Pinterest is owned by men, used by women, and it is chop full of stereotypes, capturing the essence of media platforms as a whole in how they attempt to instill one narrative, and the perfect way to live, look, and be. 

There is this draw to Pinterest in that it allows you to live in a custom fantasy world for a moment, creating what Douglas Kellner calls a “seductive cultural environment”, where you select all of the things you wish you had: the style you wish to encompass, the house you wish you could obtain, the way you wish for your kitchen to look, and the way you wish your life to be. Unlike other social media platforms, there is not much interactions with others happening. There are little to no discussion threads, commenting, status posting, or original content. It is less about the followers you have and getting a lot of likes, and more about about building a digital journal of hopes, dreams, wants, and desires. Full of DIY projects that never turn out the way they’re supposed to, remodeling ideas that will cost more you more time and money than made out to be, work-outs that you might never do, and body and relationship goals that engrave in your brain what it means to be beautiful and happy, all while continuing to under-represent marginalized groups.

[theamazingsallyhogan]

The History of Wonder Woman

Hey kid, wanna know the history of Wonder Woman? The whole messy lot of it, not just the very start?

Wanna know HOW her books ended up the biggest mess in the entire comics industry? Big clues as to why her movie took so long to make?

It has feminism, racism, sexism, blasphemy, infanticide, and bees...

Wonder Woman was created by Dr. William Moulton Marston, noted psychologist, inventor of the lie detector, writer, and feminist.  He secretly lived in a polyamorous relationship with two women who helped him come up with Wonder Woman: his wife, Elizabeth Marston, and Olive Byrne, daughter of the major women’s rights crusader Ethel Byrne (known for helping her sister, Margaret Sanger, to create Planned Parenthood). He was heavily influenced by early-twentieth-century suffragists,  birth-control advocates, and feminists.

Even putting aside how jaw-droppingly progressive his woman superhero was, the comics still stand out for how whimsical they were.  Wonder Woman/Diana had an invisible plane and a telepathic radio. She jousted on a giant battle-kangaroo, and, like all Amazons, enjoyed deflecting bullets with her bracelets.  She fought Nazis, mad scientists, valkyries, mole-men, tiger-ape hybrids, flying mer-sharks, a subatomic army, and her arch-enemy: Mars, the god of war. She regularly battled aliens well before it became common for her peers (including Superman, who in those days was usually taking on gangsters and corrupt politicians). When not kicking back with her mother and sister Amazons she hung out with a short and stout firecracker of a girl called Etta Candy, a slew of college girls, and an Air Force pilot named Steve Trevor that was as disaster-prone as Lois Lane. And while later writers said that gods gave her superpowers  under Marston everything she could do was just from training real hard.

Analysis often puts attention on some elements that are – let’s not beat around the bush – kinky as hell (like the “bondage” aspect of Wonder Woman typing people up and getting tied up), but just focusing on that is a massive disservice to Marston.  Early Wonder Woman comics were far ahead of the curve in sheer quirkiness and how progressive they were in their depiction of women (even stating there would be a woman President one day).  It certainly helped that s Marston was often helped by his assistant, 19-year old Joye Hummel (I’ll come back to her in a moment), particularly when his health began deteriorating.

Marston put thought into Wonder Woman’s origin. Diana was created when the Amazon Queen, Hippolyta, wanted a child and Aphrodite granted her wish by bringing a clay baby to life. The “artificial woman” is a common theme in religion and mythology, including the most famous examples of Pygmalion and Pandora. Pygmalion was essentially a living gift to a sculptor that the gods liked, while Pandora was clay brought to life by the gods that promptly unleashed all the evil in the world (much like Eve, created from Adam’s rib). Marston could have made Wonder Woman’s father a god (a dime-a-dozen origin for heroes), but instead made her into an inversion of the “artificial woman” trope. Here was a woman made from clay, but she was neither a blight nor a prize to be won; raised by women, she was a hero in her own right. After millennia of blame for all the world’s woes, Pandora got her revenge: Wonder Woman.

How Marston got into comics is a story by itself. At the time, there was a fledgling movement to censor comics (“Dick Tracy is too violent!”). Family Circle magazine published an interview with Marston on the subject, since he was a noted psychologist who had worked for Hollywood as a consultant (the interviewer was actually Olive Byrne, who lived with the Marstons by then and wrote under a pen name). Marston’s defense of comics attracted the attention of DC Comics, who offered Marston a job as an “educational consultant” (wanting to tell any would-be censors that the staff psychologist okayed everything). Marston had offered the opinion that what comics needed wasn’t to censor “violent” heroes but rather to offer nonviolent alternatives, and saw an opportunity to introduce that, as well as to create a prominent female hero. His pitch was a hit - in 1941 Wonder Woman appeared.

Wonder Woman’s use of a lasso tying people up (and getting tied up) certainly boosted sales by appealing to readers that liked seeing a little bondage (including Marston himself). For Wonder Woman to succeed (and for his feminist message to reach male readers), Marston didn’t shy away from titillation. But her heavy use of a lasso wasn’t just a way to attract readers. The frequent imagery of Wonder Woman escaping from ropes and chains provided a powerful image of women escaping their metaphorical bonds. Moreover, it also stemmed from Marston’s desire to offer a less violent hero – Diana lassoed bad guys and explained what they’d done wrong instead of breaking their jaws like Batman or Dick Tracy. Wonder Woman’s compassion was front and center in Marston’s comic, and her efforts to reform her foes were a major theme.

And she certainly had her fair share of foes! Marston came up with a colorful gallery of recurring villains, including Giganta (a gorilla-turned-into-a-woman), Cheetah (think a Kardashian that went crazy and started wearing animal skins while committing crimes), the fascist mad scientist Dr. Poison, the misogynistic mentalist Dr. Psycho, and plenty more.

Marston worked from 1941 to 1947, when he passed away of cancer.  Joye Hummel, his assistant, asked to continue writing the book, making an argument like “you know I was writing a bunch of the stories already, right? Marston had polio and cancer; I was doing most of the work near the end.”  DC heard her excellent argument and ignored her, giving the book to Robert Kanigher, the book’s editor (making him essentially his own boss), and there’s never been a more disastrous baton-passing between writers in all of comics history.

Kanigher’s Wonder Woman ran from 1948 to 1968. He had co-created The Flash and many other characters, and churned out scripts by the bucketloads, with particular impact on superhero and war comics (including that one with a real-life Confederate general as the hero).  But his 20+-year(!) run on Wonder Woman was an unmitigated catastrophe.  

The feminist underpinnings of the book were discarded (most egregiously, a section Marston had included in every issue celebrating great women in history was replaced with a section about weddings), and Diana seemed obsessed with Steve Trevor. As Dr. Fredric Wertham led a high-profile moral crusade against comics, DC kept Wonder Woman as inoffensive to 50s sensibilities as possible. Stories pitted her against monsters, mobsters, and aliens (with the occasional story about strange creatures falling in love with her), and while parts campily echoed Marston’s absurdist moments (Dinosaurs in a Department Store!), the core of the book withered. Steve became an “alpha-male” that felt threatened by Wonder Woman’s heroics… and she felt bad about it. While Steve and Hippolyta still showed up, the rest of the supporting cast were forgotten and nobody took their place. The idea that her feats stemmed from Amazon training was dropped – Wonder Woman was given superpowers by the gods (including flight, rendering her invisible plane obsolete).

Kanigher’s frequent time-traveling stories let Wonder Woman team up with her younger self. Thus, for a much of a 20+-year period, rather than building up a solid cast, Wonder Woman was left literally talking to herself. When Robin brought together other sidekicks to create the “Teen Titans,” nobody involved was paying enough attention to realize Kanigher’s "Wonder Girl” was just a younger Wonder Woman. After spotting the error, DC said the Wonder Girl in Teen Titans was a new character (“Donna Troy”), but attempts to retroactively connect her to Wonder Woman underwent so many rewrites over the years that she remains one of the biggest headaches in comics. When people read Teen Titans, they learn that Wonder Woman’s book is confusing.

Despite being on the book for over 20 years, Kanigher’s only notable new characters were Angle Man (a generic recurring mobster), Egg Fu (an evil egg/racist Chinese caricature, see below),  Nubia (“what if we made another Wonder Woman, only this time with black clay?”), and Circe (another character plucked from mythology).  Of the recurring villains that Marston had created, Kanigher used Dr. Psycho a few times, Cheetah twice, Giganta twice, and… that was about it.  At a time when heroes like Batman, Superman, and The Flash were building up villains, settings, and supporting casts, Wonder Woman’s world was shrinking as fast as her peers’ were growing.

When his run concluded, Kanigher had essentially left Wonder Woman with no notable villains and a supporting cast smaller than when he had inherited the book 20 years earlier. Worse, book’s feminist soul was in tatters.  The book was handed off to Denny O’Neil  in 1968.

O’Neil, a major Batman writer, was almost as mismatched for Wonder Woman as Kanigher, and his editor wanted drastic changes to improve sales. O’Neil killed Steve (a mercy at that point), depowered Wonder Woman, and gave her an elderly Asian martial-arts instructor – basically trying to turn her into a spy-themed 70s movie hero. 

Thankfully that run only lasted only a few years, and from 1974 to 1986 the book was thrown like a hot potato from writer to writer. Nobody stayed, little was built, Steve was brought back to life, Steve was killed again, Steve came back again, the setting was shifted to World War II (because the hot new TV Show was set in WWII), and then back to present day… it was clearly a book in serious trouble.

When Superfriends (the first Justice League cartoon) debuted in 1973, there was no clear major Wonder Woman villain in the books, so the show settled on Cheetah (who had racked up a paltry 9 appearances, including a reprint, in the 30 years that Wonder Woman had been around).

And when Lynda Carter’s Wonder Woman live action TV show came out in 1975, it was a hit that cemented the character’s prominence in American pop culture, but it was set in World War II. Wonder Woman wasn’t the only hero to be created in WWII, but hers was the only comic with its glory days so clearly in the past.  

In 1986, DC rebooted their entire line of comics, wanting to start from scratch, updating and streamlining the best of what came before. Wonder Woman was given to George Perez (and Len Wein), and his brilliant run took the most iconic and well-known elements of the character, making it all work. He brought back Etta Candy and made Steve Trevor into a likable human being. The Amazons were fleshed out and given flaws and foibles. He plucked villains from the book’s distant past (Cheetah and Dr. Psycho, now revamped to be foes worthy of a Superman-level hero), and retooled a few of the more recent ones that had potential, like Circe. He showed that at least some Amazons were gay (in 1986!), and found a way to visually combine the classic Wonder Woman costume with more accurate Grecoroman soldier styles. If you’ve ever seen Wonder Woman dressed like a “warrior,” you have Perez to thank. 

And while Wonder Woman remained compassionate, Perez showed that when there were no other options his Amazon warrior was willing to use lethal force.

Hippolyta and the Amazons were reimagined with a greater emphasis on actual Greek mythology, but at the same time were presented as a mutiracial tribe (of particular note, Perez introduced the black Amazon general Phillipus, who would be presented as Diana’s teacher and Hippolyta’s closest friend). 

The difference between them and Amazons of myth was explained as being due lies told to make Hercules look good – in DC’s world the famous Greek demigod had actually deceived, raped, and enslaved the Amazons before they overthrew him and withdrew from the mortal world. In the “starting from scratch” new universe, Diana was written as having just left the Amazon island of Themyscira for the first time, finding a new home in Boston with Julia Kapatelis, Curator of the Museum of Cultural Antiquities (a great friend for an “ancient Greek” suddenly finding herself in the modern world!). Vanessa’s teenage daughter went on a few Wonder Woman-related adventures, and it looked like she was going to become a new (and less confusing) “Wonder Girl”. And Perez brought back the god of war (calling him Ares instead of Mars), who had been virtually absent since Marston’s run. That last bit’s incredible when you consider the villain was clearly her arch-enemy in the early days… imagine if Joker or Lex Luthor had been missing for decades. He also sought to end the cycle of writers not knowing what to do with Steve Trevor – Steve and Etta got engaged.

Then the book was handed to William Messner-Loebs (WML), who wrote it from 1992-1995. Sadly, it squandered almost everything Perez had done. Right at the start it threw her in space, abandoning the cast that Perez had introduced, and when she returned the Kapetalis family was nowhere to be seen. Perez had left one instruction when he left the book – Steve and Etta were to get married. WML had Etta appear a few times (long enough to make the always-comfortable-about-her-weight character bulimic), then wrote her and Steve out of the book without ever showing their wedding (a broken promise that resulted in Perez being furious with DC comics for years).

The Amazons of Themyscira were dropped into another dimension for years (and for most of that time the readers were led to believe Themyscira had been destroyed, so the reveal that it was in another dimension may have been a panic-driven last-minute change). A series of stories showed Wonder Woman trying to have a “normal” life, like holding a minimum wage job at a Taco Bell knockoff (bear in mind she had no secret identity – everyone knew she was Wonder Woman). Notably, he created a gritty new Amazon named Artemis that briefly became Wonder Woman, died, and came back because Wonder Woman desperately needed supporting cast members. Although he added little that was truly bad, WML had cost the book all the momentum and stability that Perez had given it.

He came up with a gritty new Amazon warrior called Artemis that briefly became Wonder Woman, died, and came back because Wonder Woman desperately needed supporting cast members.  Although he ADDED little that was truly bad, WML had cost the book all the momentum and stability that Perez had given it.  

John Byrne took over from 1995-1998, and set the tone by slaughtering half the Amazons at the start. His run had little good in it, but wouldn’t be too bad if not for a few things. First, he made a more confusing mess out of Donna Troy (the Teen Titans’ Wonder Girl). Second, he tried to make a flawed hero out of Hercules (established as a rapist in the Perez run). Third, he felt that since the Wonder Woman TV show had been set in World War II there needed to be a Wonder Woman in WWII, even though we’d already seen that the “start from scratch” Wonder Woman’s first adventures were in the modern days. Byrne had Hippolyta, Wonder Woman’s mother, go back in time to become the Wonder Woman of WWII, making her the first Wonder Woman and Diana the second, and if you think that seems really unnecessary then I hope you can go back in time to tell Byrne not to do it. Lastly, he shoved Steve, Etta, and the Kapetalis family even more firmly out of the book by having Diana move (to “Gateway City”), and came up with a “Wonder Girl” that was the teenage daughter of a museum curator specializing in Greek antiquities. Since she was a blatant photocopy of the character that Perez had created to become Wonder Girl, it’s unclear why he didn’t just use Perez’s character (the pattern of Diana’s supporting cast failing to get traction has never stopped).

The book was given to Eric Luke from 1998 to 2000. I’m not 100% certain why he got the axe mid-story, but I can guess - Wonder Woman met Rama, a major Hindu god (who was wearing a leather Korn jacket… a no-no for a Hindu god). They teamed up to fight the Greek god Chronos, who had already defeated the Greek and Hindu Pantheons and was waging war on Christian heaven. Furthermore, there were hints at romance between him and Wonder Woman, even though Rama is married in Hinduism. Perhaps someone in authority felt that the book had wandered into a religious minefield.

Phil Jimenez’s run lasted from 2001 to 2003. He liked the idea of Wonder Woman being the UN Ambassador representing the Amazons and tried to do something with that (for the first time since Perez), and fleshed out the Amazons by showing some of the conflicts between different groups. He implied that Phillipus (Wonder Woman’s Amazon mentor) was in love with Wonder Woman’s mom. He made an effort to draw from all eras of the book’s past (even Kanigher’s – the generic mobster “Angle Man” became a surprisingly enjoyable thief armed with a device that could turn his surroundings into an M.C. Escher drawing). The Kapatelis family from Perez’s run returned. Jimenez’s major new addition to the cast was a new boyfriend by the name of Trevor Barnes, who was killed by a fill-in writer the minute Jimenez left the book (Wonder Woman is not allowed have a consistent supporting cast). And due to the U.N. elements, Diana moved to D.C. (she’s not allowed get a consistent city either). He certainly made missteps - such as replacing Wonder Woman’s best-known original foe, The Cheetah, with a male character by the same name, so for a while this was a thing...

And for some reason Jimenez made a point of bringing up that Wonder Woman was a virgin. But overall, his run stands out for its sustained effort to build up Wonder Woman’s cast and villains, bringing back old favorites from all eras of the book.

Greg Rucka tried to build on the Perez-Jimenez idea of Wonder Woman as an Ambassador from Themyscira. She got an embassy staff as a supporting cast (complete with a Minotaur chef), and the embassy was given a teleportation portal to Themyscira, making it easier than ever to juggle the Amazon and non-Amazon parts of Wonder Woman’s world. Classic villains like Dr. Psycho and Cheetah (female) showed up, along with modernized takes of figures from Greek mythology. It was getting rave critical reviews and had stabilized many elements of her world, but DC decided they had an idea that would boost sales even more (spoiler: they were wrong) so they pulled the plug. The Amazons were yanked into an alternate dimension in a big crossover event and the embassy closed. Diana lost her supporting cast. Again.

DC’s big idea was a major overhaul by TV writer Allan Heinberg… whose run had so many delays that it started in 2006, ended in 2008, and was just five issues long. While Jimenez and Rucka had started to give Diana back stability in her supporting cast and made an effort to dust off and properly revamp some of her enemies, Heinberg went in the opposite direction, throwing villains at her without explanation for who they were, and giving Wonder Woman a whole new cast and a secret identity… as a superspy, drawing on O’Neil’s comics of the 70s of all things. Bear in mind that Wonder Woman had never had a secret identity after her 1986 reboot.  Also keep in mind that having a superhero’s secret identity be an adventurous government agent with high-tech gear gets redundant fast. Although Heinberg’s run was a mess and he basically decided that as a TV writer he didn’t need to hand in comic scripts, it’s worth nothing that he has the sole screenplay credit for the new movie. Clearly, he did have a blockbuster Wonder Woman story in him – it just took a while to get it out.

The book was handed to Jodi Picoult, an acclaimed novelist that had never written comics before. It was the first time a woman was (openly) assigned a lengthy stint on Wonder Woman. But rather than let her learn the ropes and give her a chance to show her own vision of Wonder Woman, DC started a multi-title crossover event headed someone else.  The event was called “Amazons Attack,” and Picoult was left to follow the lead of Will Pfeifer, a man who had never written Wonder Woman before, and whose knowledge of the character was apparently nonexistent. 

The Amazons returned, but Diana wasn’t given a chance to enjoy having her cast back, because they immediately started a nonsensical war.  It featured misandrist Amazons that killed defenseless children in cold blood for being male, plot-holes you could drive a truck through, the Amazons trusting Circe (think “Commissioner Gordon agreeing to make The Joker his deputy”), Batman being the one to (easily) defeat Circe, a wtf twist ending that told readers to pick up a non-Wonder Woman book, all leading up to the Amazons being taken out of Wonder Woman’s cast yet again – this time giving them amnesia and spreading them across the world where Diana could never find them (and in another book Pfeifer turned Angle Man from a likable rogue with interesting powers to a pathetic depowered misogynist – a good example of how Wonder Woman’s villains can’t catch a break either).  It literally lost track of where characters were and what they were doing from one issue to the next, lost track of characters’ motivations in the story, contradicted itself on what characters could do, and tarnished Wonder Woman’s cast like nothing written before. Amazons Attack was DC’s first (and to-date only) big multi-book event revolving around Wonder Woman, and it’s best remembered for being awful. And for this:

After being forced to work on that, Piccoult walked away from DC and likely comics as a whole (she’d been greeted by the very worst that the industry has to offer). The book was given to Gail Simone, whose run lasted from 2007 to 2010. She made an attempt to use the spy agency supporting cast left by Heinberg. While the book was often plagued by writers not using the supporting cast left by the previous writer, Simone may have been the only writer who probably should have dropped what she’d been left.  The pseudo-Agent of SHIELD secret identity failed to gel, even when Simone brought back Etta Candy.  Unfortunately, Etta was one of very few things that Simone brought back – her run made heavy use of characters from other books, including characters from Flash, Green Lantern, and an obscure sword & sorcery book from 1975.  Wonder Woman’s own supporting cast and villains remained in terrible shape. Simone started finding her footing (bringing back the Amazons and setting the stage for a wedding between two of them – Hippolyta and Phillipus, Wonder Woman’s mother and mentor!) when she was taken off the book in favor of another famous TV writer with his own vision.

J. Michael Straczynski rebooted Wonder Woman in an alternate reality where things had happened very differently (for one thing, Wonder Woman wore pants!), the Amazons were all but extinct, and there were a couple interesting things in his run aaaand The End. Less than a year in, DC reassigned him to things they thought would be more profitable.  

The book was turned over to hardboiled crime series writer Brian Azzarello, who rebooted it yet again. An argument can be made that his run is more accurate to Greek myths, but only in the most cynical ways. The most egregious moment in his run was when he “revealed” that the Amazons regularly sneaked up on boats, pretended to be helpless women lost at sea in order to get on board, seduced the men, slept with them, then massacred the defenseless crews in their sleep. If any male babies resulted from that, they were sold to Hephaestus to be slaves (with the story stating that if they didn’t have the slavery option, the Amazons would just throw the male children off a cliff).

Now say what you will about the Amazons of myth, but they didn’t go around seducing anyone. They just straight-up charged into a village and killed people – evil, yes, but completely honest about what they were. Azzarello seemed to have merged the myths of the Sirens and Amazons and tried to create something even nastier. He basically looked at two of the most misogynistic stories in Greek mythology and went “hold my beer”. To really put this in perspective, keep in mind that in all the decades that Wonder Woman has been around, the Amazons have basically been the only remotely stable element in her supporting cast. What Azzarello did was essentially the same as a new Superman writer declaring that the entire staff of the Daily Planet had secretly been in a child sex ring all along. He also turned the Amazons to stone because Wonder Woman doesn’t get a consistent supporting cast. Ever. Additionally, he decided that the whole “clay baby” thing didn’t work for him, so he redid Wonder Woman’s origin to say she’s one of those millions of kids Zeus sired – her powers, thus, were owed to her father (he also scrapped the idea of Wonder Woman’s learning her skills from Phillipus and the other Amazons, and had her learn from Ares, meaning that she owed both her power and skill to male gods). So, after several decades, Marston’s deliberate attempt to flip the script of Pandora was discarded in favor of making Wonder Woman into a she-Hercules or Percy Jackson. And, spoiler alert, the movie seems to use his idea. It’s possible the sequel will go “nope, just kidding!” (one can hope), although I wouldn’t put it past the company behind Superman v Batman to double down and put in Azzarello’s reimagining of the Amazons.

Azzarelllo’s 2011-2014 run has its fans, but whatever the merits of his tale as a self-contained story I would argue that it was very bad for Wonder Woman overall, by further tarnishing the Amazons and continuing an alarming trend of making nothing in her book consistent over time. Moreover, while he was focusing on his new characters and Greek Gods, he had no time for Wonder Woman’s other supporting cast or villains. Thus, in the new rebooted DC universe they ended up being rebooted in other author’s books, often in ways that made them far less compatible with Wonder Woman’s own stories. Last I checked, most of them are still twisting in the wind, lacking basic origins and motivations in their new incarnations.

While it’s fantastic that the movie makes people excited about Wonder Woman, I do have to worry that it compounds some of the problems Wonder Woman has. To be clear, that’s not knocking the movie. Most books wouldn’t be negatively impacted by tinkering in adaptations, but DC’s mismanagement has left Wonder Woman’s book uniquely unstable. The movie has Steve and Etta (two major supporting characters) alive in WWI, meaning they’d be absent from any Wonder Woman movies eventually set in modern times. It also uses an origin that’s six years old, that contradicts the one that had been in place since 1941, and is thematically at-odds with the character. There’s room for different interpretations with adaptations of course, but I’m certain that Marston would hate the new origin, and I don’t think the first ever Wonder Woman movie should include something as fundamentally at-odds with her creator’s vision (and the majority of her publication history) as having her powers come from a father.

I haven’t followed the books since Azzarello (really, DC couldn’t have driven me away harder if they’d tried), but from what I’ve gathered Wonder Woman is still Exhibit A for why these decades-old characters should really just be in the Public Domain at this point and not owned by corporations.

This isn’t a story with a happy ending, I’m afraid. It’s the story of how badly this industry has treated its favorite daughter.  Perhaps we’ll have to make a happy ending ourselves.

[sunshinelucky1]

A Guide to Purchasing Investment Properties

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ALBERT LEWIN’S 1945 ADAPTATION of The Picture of Dorian Gray for MGM has been largely forgotten. Though it won an Academy Award for Best Cinematography, Black-and-White, the shots for which it is most remembered are two brief Technicolor inserts showing the eponymous portrait just after it is painted and then, later, once it has aged. The two versions were the work of two different artists: the Portuguese academic painter Henrique Medina painted the first in smooth imitation of 19th-century style. An American from Chicago, Ivan Albright, did the second.

Albright’s picture, which is on display in the Art Institute of Chicago’s small exhibition of his work, insists that Dorian Gray’s eternally youthful appearance was the least important part of his Faustian pact. The portrait is of an old man, but it is even more of a repulsive one, designed to provoke disgust. In the full-length portrait, Dorian stands with his arms by his side in a pose of mock elegance. Next to and behind him are the accoutrements of traditional portraiture: an elegant side table, a wall clock, a carefully hung brocade curtain. Like his clothes, these objects are rendered incomprehensible by decay. His trousers and jacket are full of burns, slashes, and tears, covered with brown and yellow stains. His face, leering and grimacing directly out of the canvas, is splotchy and noticeably encrusted with what looks like leprosy: small raised bumps cut through with deep furrows.

The premise of Dorian Gray — that moral corruption would manifest as physical decay — seems perfectly aligned with Albright’s concerns, which remained remarkably constant throughout his long career, spanning the mid-’20s until his death in 1983. The painting he produced for MGM is of a piece with almost all of his other work, if more vividly colored (Albright used a brighter than usual palette for the painting to show up to full effect in Technicolor) and perhaps less realistic. Though none of his other subjects have the same renown as Wilde’s fictional character, all of Albright’s portraiture contains the same obsessively rendered detail and, above all, the same relentless fascination with how grotesque the human body can be.

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The son of a successful landscape painter, Albright trained at the Art Institute of Chicago and first worked as a professional artist during World War I. Stationed in France, he was commissioned to produce sketches of the injured. A small corner of the exhibit in Chicago is devoted to this first entanglement with the morbid, where the centerfold of one of Albright’s sketchbooks is laid flat behind glass; an iPad allows one to view the rest of the pages and zoom in on the anatomical details. The drawings are largely of single wounds: bright red shapes with highlights of yellow and green, set against much more faintly drawn arms, legs, and torsos. Albright’s first official commission supposedly set the course for the rest of his work, but a world of difference lies between the war sketches and his later paintings. The sketches turn parts of human bodies into objects for observation and study. They are direct: objective, difficult to look at, but entirely straightforward. The portraits Albright started to create are also objectifying: they turn the human figure into something alien and bizarre. They are revolting and seductive.

Even from the small selection of portraits on display in Chicago, one initially has the suspicion that Albright’s disgust with humanity may have favorite targets. Fascinated with corruption, degeneration, and the beauty of decay, Albright’s art — in addition to its strong resemblances to contemporaneous European painting, especially neue Sachlichkeit — picks up on themes favored in writing in a line running from Baudelaire through Lautréamont, Huysmans, and perhaps even Wilde. For Albright, as for the earlier 19th-century writers, women seem, at least initially, to be exemplary disgusting objects.

Into the World There Came a Soul Called Ida takes these elements even further. Ida sits in front of a dressing table covered in perfume bottles and makeup jars. Dressed in a short slip and silk shirt, she holds a powder puff in one hand, pressed against her heart, and a hand mirror in the other. Her legs, which almost overwhelm the composition, are an expanse of bright, pale skin. They are swollen, and around the ankles is a network of varicose veins while higher up, heavy cellulite creates strong shadows on her thighs. The insistence on the tools for the creation of feminine beauty seems like an argument that however much powder, perfume, or makeup Ida applies, she will still be fundamentally grotesque.

Albright was hardly unique in his view of women’s bodies. Baudelaire, after all, had described an animal’s carcass (in a poem of the same title) as having its “legs in the air like a lustful woman / who is burning and sweating poisons.” Baudelaire stands as a particularly extreme representative of a tradition of hyperbolic disgust at the body in general and women’s bodies in particular. Note the direction of his metaphor: it not only compares a woman to a prototypically disgusting object, but it also uses women as metaphors for a corpse. Winfried Menninghaus, in the introduction to his 1999 book Disgust, wrote that “[t]his book about disgust is thus, at the same time, a book entirely concerned with the (masculine) imagination of the vetula, of the disgusting old woman.” There are, of course, artists and writers for whom, less ostentatiously than Baudelaire, women are the default choice when one needs an exemplary disgust-object.

This pervasively misogynist perspective seems at first to sum up what is happening in works like Flesh, the 1928 painting that lends its name to the Art Institute’s current show. Its subject, Arline Stanford, is shown head-on, slumped shoulders, wearing a low-cut undershirt that shows a vast expanse of chest and shoulders, puffy and crisscrossed with wrinkles and folds. Her skin is pale, bordering on sallow, rendered by Albright with a muted but kaleidoscopic variety of reds, pinks, yellows, and purples. The face is perhaps the most shocking, covered in the same leprous combination of crust-like scars and deep furrows that Albright would use on Dorian Gray nearly 20 years later. The insistent equivalence between women and the grotesque is only intensified by the fact that a year before Albright painted Arline Stanford in Flesh, he painted her husband Arthur in The Lineman, a relatively calm portrait of an electrician. Arthur is hunched over, arms hanging by his side, bedraggled and depressed, perhaps, but certainly not grotesque or disgusting. Viewing these twin portraits of husband and wife side by side only confirms the suspicion that, even if Albright’s men are hardly heroic figures, women’s bodies are the real objects of his revulsion toward human beings.

Nevertheless, long before he was commissioned to produce the painting for MGM’s Dorian Gray, Albright had turned the full power of his microscopic style onto male subjects, who would become more and more prominent as his career developed. His 1930–’31 And God Created Man in His Own Image (Albright’s titles continued to grow unwieldy over the years) contains the most leprous image next to Dorian Gray’s: heavily wrinkled and completely covered in pustules, scars, lines. For a moment, the complete engulfment of the face by these accretions makes the image appear easier to stomach compared to the more localized eruptions in Flesh and Ida — there is no contrast to “normal” skin. The subject is shirtless; his arms and face are a brownish-red, while the areas of his flesh normally under a shirt are a pale pink-blue. All of it is sagging and wrinkled, with tufts of wiry hairs on his upper arms and chest. This man has, apparently, just taken off his shirt — one sleeve is still attached to his forearm — and the top buttons of his jeans are undone, as though threatening to show more.

Albright might not have managed to decouple bodily disgust from femininity fully. Nevertheless, his disgust is far more expansive than the tradition epitomized by Baudelaire. Indeed, the most striking pieces in the Chicago show are a series of about 20 self-portraits dating from the last two decades of Albright’s life. All are rendered in the same over-detailed, hyper-disgusted style in which he had been working for four decades. In a painting from 1982, the year before his death, Albright depicts himself with his trademark leprous skin, but also with eyes that are at once tiny, deeply sunk, and bloodshot, surrounded by folds of green-yellow skin. His mouth, hanging half open, is chafed red, as is the tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows.

¤

Viewed while walking by quickly — or indeed, glimpsed a few seconds on screen — all of these pictures are easily digestible, even attractive. The sheer attention Albright paid to detail (which also meant it took him years to finish work) gives the images a baroque complexity; anything that elaborate generates a kind of pleasure. The level of detail in Albright’s execution also demands more prolonged attention, which does not eliminate all pleasure. There is a pleasure, too, in looking at horrible things. Despite his sense of shame, Leontius in Plato’s Republic cannot stop himself from looking at the corpses piled against the walls of Athens. “Fine, you wretches,” he says to his eyes, as a last attempt to disavow his attraction, “fill yourselves up on this lovely sight.” Being in front of many of Albright’s paintings feels similar: they are horrible, but endlessly seductive. Something is improper, perhaps even disrespectful, about them, but always some new detail, another vein, another hair, lump, or sore avails itself to discovery.

Jean Dubuffet, who contributed a brief essay to a catalog of a 1964 retrospective at the Art Institute and the Whitney, took Albright to be a crusader against the Platonic injunction to turn our eyes away:

Rarely, it seems to me, perhaps never, has the platonic and humanistic spirit been opposed with the weight and authority of so devastating a wind. Never has an assault of such force been given to the rationalistic order, to the secular esthetics which rule in our midst and to the metaphysics from which they proceed.

In the same catalog, the curator Frederick Sweet closes his preface by remarking that Albright “does not think that his interests are morbid, nor does he consider himself a realist, but feels that life and death, growth and decay, are all part of existence.” Death exists, of course, but the hope in those lines seems to be that Albright’s portraiture contains, alongside its relentless disgust for the human body, a more redeeming message. Perhaps he is proposing some sort of empathy: that we may age, gain weight, lose or sprout hair, develop leprosy, but that through all of these bodily changes we remain human, and that all of these supposedly disgusting qualities are simply what it means to have a body. As such, they are to be celebrated. If that reading is right, the closest literary antecedent for Albright would not be Baudelaire but Walt Whitman and his celebration of the body: “All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your body or of any one’s body, male or female, / The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean.”

Dubuffet and Sweet’s sentiment comes to the same point: that Albright’s unwavering attention to the parts of our existence at which we would rather not look forces a confrontation with our embodiment and finitude. Albright’s portraits would seem to offer the visual analogue to the project of anti-disgust advocated most recently and forcefully by the philosopher Martha Nussbaum, who claims Whitman as a primary source of inspiration. This requires a turn away from thinking of ourselves as detached from our bodies, not to submit to the lure of idealization, to confront the limits but also the peculiar joys of being finite human animals.

As good as that sounds, it is not at all clear that this is what Albright is up to. Albright’s portraits do at times seem caught between a Platonist condemnation of the body tout court and an honest reckoning with the inevitability of decay and the inevitable difficulties entailed by having a body. Albright’s own pronouncements from the 1964 catalog must rank as one of the stranger artist statements produced for a major museum:

In this eternal smog-land of ours, if the real truth appeared, it would blind us, it would incinerate us as the sun would blind and incinerate us on close approach. We are shadows of the real but not the real; we live by half-truths and half facts. […] The body is our tomb. Shake the dust from our soul and maybe there lies the answer for without this planetary body, without eyes the light would not hurt, without flesh the pain would not hurt, without legs our motion might accelerate, without endless restrictions our freedom greater, our slavery less, without examples all around us our originality might be different. Without a body we might be men.

Albright seems at turns revolted by and deeply empathetic with his subjects. Yet even if his portraits demand that we look honestly and hold our gaze, bodies seem to be unambiguously bad things for Albright. If his portraits are filled with empathy for his subjects (which they are), his empathy is based on the shared misfortune of being embodied. The problem, of course, is that we cannot get out of our bodies. Plato thought that we could, through suitable intellectual exercise and purification, leave our physical vessels behind and attain pure understanding. Albright, it must be said, knew better. But on the more basic point of whether it would be preferable not to have a body at all, he agrees. Without finding anything but pain and encumbrance in embodiment, how could he not? Whitman and his successors’ celebration of bodies in all their many forms — including the ones usually called disgusting — ultimately requires that there be something redeeming in having a body, like the physical pleasures of food and sex. Even those who turn toward bodies with disgust do not deny that they are sites of genuine pleasure (indeed, part of the reason they are problematic is because they are so pleasurable), even if they also bring inevitable pains. Albright categorically denies this. For him, there are no benefits to having a body: not in the straightforward sense championed by Whitman and not even lurking in the background of disgust, as it does for Baudelaire. Albright’s painting is so unsettling because his vision of bodily corruption is uncompromising. Whatever else it is, it is a decades-long argument that in the end, it would be better not to have a body.

¤

Emilio Comay del Junco is an academic and writer based in New York. He is finishing his PhD in philosophy at the University of Chicago; his academic research focuses on ancient Greek philosophy.

The post More Than a Body: Ivan Albright at the Art Institute of Chicago appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books https://ift.tt/2K2Z891

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The Woke Sub

Genevieve Mage, Vivi, scanned the classroom and noticed that one of her students, Sam, was mad, writing with a look of concern on his face. Whether he needed space or whether he was angry and needed to diffuse was a different question she had to answer for herself cautiously. 

In Woodside Learning Center (San Francisco Unified School District), a juvenile detention center or “juvie,” it is necessary to be observant. She was teaching Unit Two, the ex-communication unit, right now and she only had forty-five minutes to teach this lesson. Luckily she was teaching Cinema Studies, a movie playing in the background and other students attentively watching, she was able to approach Sam. Sam unraveled: he was writing a petition to the courts, if he didn’t get it approved that would mean moving to a group home in a different county leaving his family and girlfriend behind. English being in Vivi’s repertoire, she was the perfect guide to a ticket out of here and most importantly, out of a group home. Together, Sam and Vivi worked on his petition. Locked away in concrete tower with nothing but self-doubt written on the walls, the juvenile justice system keeps the lowest of kids without help; Sam wrote away complaints against the system and on his thoughts. Given the tools, Sam wrote a letter and Vivi wrote a recommendation for him. He became an advocate for himself.

“One day he didn’t show up… that is always a bittersweet moment in juvie.” Sam’s petition, on his conditions to be released, allowed him to stay in San Francisco, closer to his loved ones.

I met Vivi Mage at the University of California, Irvine’s Reclaim Mental Health conference. She gave a presentation titled, “RICH KIDS GO TO THERAPY, POOR KIDS GO TO JUVIE.” With pale skin, wavy dark hair with blonde tips, and a youthful glow, I was skeptical- she looked like she climbed out of an advertisement for Whole Foods. Any preconceived notions I had of her were combatted when she spoke. Her voice boomed and bounced with urban slang, sprinklings of cursing- her everyday jargon- contrasted with her hippy like appearance. Her presence in the room was unshaken yet there was silence. There was an unspoken tension in the room: what does this white girl know about juvie? It was when she deconstructed her identity- everything from her middle class family, education level, down to her pale skin – that she gained the audience’s respect. She was “woke”, meaning she was aware of social injustices in society. She spoke of the problems of the juvenile center, the little resources they have, and how anyone, regardless of background, would have trouble simply learning.  She proved that she was aware of her privilege, she was no “white savior”, but she was doing her best to understand where her students come from. 53.6% of her students coming from low income neighborhoods; 44.6% being black and 39.3% being Hispanic; one would question how Vivi can relate to their experience. With white kids being a rare sight in the halls of juvie, Vivi sticks out amongst them. Vivi herself has had to fight mental illness and trauma, which did result to criminal activity. Through this connection, she is able to empathize. Through this ability and her physical appearance, although small in stature, she matches with charisma- making her a curious element to the juvenile detention center. As one of the guards stated, “She wouldn’t last long.”

Vivi is currently a graduate student at the University of San Francisco, studying Urban Education and Social Justice. Although her journey to teaching in juvie does not start here. It begins in San Francisco, being a substitute teacher at both the “best and worst performing schools.” As a substitute teacher with this resume, she was exposed to working in low performing, most of the time low income, middle schools. Substitute teacher retention in these types of schools, much like in juvie, is low, they were desperate. Off of a list compiled from names of substitute teachers, cross referenced with “Art,” Vivi’s name was jumbled in the file.

In the Summer of 2016, she received a phone call and found her way to a school that she did not recognize. It wasn’t until she arrived for her interview that she realized that Woodside Learning Center was a part of a juvenile detention center. During her interview she was allowed to sit in a class, Cinema Studies, that she would later teach herself. Inside Mad Max: Fury Road was blaring in the classroom, a story of feminist revolution, matched with mature discussion from young men on the brink of their teenage years. Teachers as facilitators and students as leaders, learning about practical life skills, she was in awe. Vivi accepted the position.

It became clear that the school and the detention hall itself are two separate entities. The school is primarily there to fit the needs of the students. Upon taking the California High School Exit Examination, 80% of students here were not proficient in English and 81% were not proficient in math for the 2014-2015 school year. These students are juniors in high school and above. The attitudes towards these students being less than average has an effect on who is teaching them and the atmosphere they are living in. Along with being raised in a misogynistic environment upheld by stereotypical war veteran guards, there is a need for another type of lesson to be taught here beyond math and English. Upon her first week teaching in July, she played Beyoncé’s “Lemonade,” much to the disapproval of the guards. Together as a class, the students break down the meaning and imagery of films, what they choose to represent and how they may mirror their own personal trauma. She takes this opportunity to teach the students, to help them unlearn stereotypes and stigmas that are so heavily prevalent in this male dominated space. Instances where she has been sexualized or even the punchline to a joke, allows her to make an impact: such as teaching the boys why they shouldn’t be using “pussy” as a derogatory word, that it reeks of “heteronormative sexist bullshit.” These skills are taught in her art class, separated by gender and age: she typically teaches older boys, younger ones, and girls.

This space is ideal because her only job is to be a teacher. Unlike other schools, especially ones with lower funding, she would have to take on the role as bodyguard and as a therapist while also teaching. Here, all the other adults are already present in the room- around five adults per classroom- her job is made simple. She teaches small groups, in units, at a time giving her the opportunity to share intimate moments to better understand kids that are left hanging on the fringes of society.  

“Many court schools are not providing even the most basic level of education to the youth in their charge,” stated the Youth Law Center in a study of educational injustice in California detention centers. Building on building, confined space, Vivi tells me that although she is free, this place can make her feel trapped. If a teenager lives in this depressing space having lived through trauma, emotional abuse, it is hard to imagine proper care being taken, their development affected. In addition to mental health, education has become second. From her experience, kids want to engage and want to feel valid, without extra barriers of hard vocabulary or what have you, but they are “scholars without the right words.” Vivi has a different mindset in terms of education.

Her answer lies in reallocation of funds and the community. Where money, especially in California, has been destined to prisons, Vivi seeks moving money from the juvenile detention center and even education into a community center. Equipped with activities, possibilities for internships, and specialized teachers to small groups of kids- this would reduce crime. Minimizing schooling into hands on activities for students would prove useful and also gain and keep their interest, once again, away from the streets. Community involvement would be the base for this ship being kept afloat. Education must be kept as priority, not imprisonment. Vivi has already begun her own program in Woodside, Art and Empowerment, with a focus on appreciating cinema with an emphasis on the connections her students make to reality. Vivi treats her students as just that, students, and not inmates.  As Vivi says, “I don’t like juvie, don’t like the system, and I don’t like to criminalize youth.”

By Anissa Balderas