#it’s just interesting! could write a masters level thesis on the way women are treated in this fandom lol

[kodzuken]

it’s actually really interesting to see how some of us were treated fighting to view lucy as a complex character who didn’t deserve the hate buddies sent her way, accusing her of being the most horrible woman to ever exist in part due to her role in buck’s cheating arc versus the rather unanimous support and delight for eddie cheating on his girlfriend. it’s just interesting to me

[thelocalrebel]

Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)

Call me a Star Wars nerd: my childhood was literally me speeding to the library every week to borrow the Jedi Apprentice novels, before I graduated to the Expanded Universe (now called Legends) of the Thrawn Trilogy and the New Jedi Order, to name a few. Not just novels, but comics too! Unsurprisingly, games that have a special place in my heart include both Knights of the Old Republic games (not The Old Republic MMORPG) and years on, I still write fic about that era and get emotional over a 13 year old game.

But I couldn't love The Last Jedi (TLJ) no matter how hard I tried. Sure, there's space battles and blowing-things-up that's iconically Star Wars, but one thing (amongst others) ruined it for me. Despite the franchise crowing “diversity” and being “progressive”, TLJ falls back on tropes that should belong in the Stone Age. If I listed everything skeevy about TLJ like the lore and plot inconsistencies, I’d be writing a thesis, so here’s four points to consider. Spoilers abound.

1) For Some Reason, The Narrative Now Centers On Kylo.

This was my absolute biggest issue with TLJ. Here, we see Kylo being woobified and treated like a boy in the narrative despite him being a grown-ass 29 year old adult. In numerous instances, Kylo’s Tragic Backstory™ is emphasised: being neglected by his parents, his Uncle Luke wanting to murder him, Snoke grooming him to join the Dark Side, him struggling with his insecurities ft. his explosive tantrums - all of which subtly nudging us to empathise with him. Aka, highlight that despite him being involved in the Star Wars equivalent of a militaristic fascist organisation carrying out genocide and literal slavery AND being the one responsible for murdering Jedi students at Luke’s Jedi Academy, we must feel sorry for him. That he just needs to be understood. So he can be redeemed.

Seriously. If Luke “There Is Still Good In [Vader]” Skywalker thinks Kylo is irredeemable, I’m tempted to believe him.

But back to my point. Kylo’s story is suddenly the crux in TLJ moreso because other characters have been mangled - character-wise - simply to prop him up. Most damning is how Rey, of all people, suddenly decides that Kylo is worth saving despite him murdering the first father figure she had and ever wanted (Han), mortally wounding the first person who saw her worth coming back for (Finn), and mind-raping her in their first interaction in a torture room - in the span of, what, two weeks? Fine, perhaps this is Rey being flawed - tying in to how we shouldn’t hold representations to perfect standards, especially for marginalised identities. But really? Even with all such instances imply? Because to me, this simply reinforces that stereotype where a “Virtuous But Naive (White) Woman Saves Angsty (White) Boi From Himself”; a norm that reflects real-world instances of women doing tons of unpaid emotional labour while absolving men of the responsibility to improve themselves or even take responsibility for their own actions. So yes, it’s misogynistic. In TLJ, Rey exists solely to redeem Kylo. And that doesn’t sound like the Rey from The Force Awakens (TFA): you know, the Rey with an arc not revolving around a man? (I don’t want to discuss the implications of the Reylo pairing and what it normalises - there’s too much, and this isn’t the place). In that, Rey stops being angry; an essential character trait she displays when faced with danger and the unknown, because women can’t be angry, right? Otherwise, “they’re dangerous”. Hence, Rey’s character is watered-down for Kylo’s benefit.

As if mischaracterising Rey wasn’t enough, they had to brutalise Luke’s character too. Luke Skywalker, the compassionate pacifist who believed that even the vilest of individuals could be redeemed, suddenly decides that the best way to deal at all with Kylo is to kill him? Seriously????? (It’s not just canon that disputes this characterisation of Luke - even the Legends books dispute this. And Luke changing his mind last minute doesn’t count). Sure, the bitter, jaded, and depressed Luke we see in TLJ is believable, given recent events and him self-flagellating over such events - but his decisions prior? Inconsistent. Or, just to fuel Kylo’s Tragic Backstory™ (which wasn’t even elaborated much. How did he fall? How was Snoke responsible? Where did Snoke come from? Just marvel at the wealth of lore that could’ve been explored). In the process, the Luke who used love and forgiveness instead of violence (i.e. toxic masculinity) to be a compelling hero, was sacrificed.

But hey, all’s fair in propping up white male characters and their manpain, right?

2) Fake (White) Feminism

What riles me up more is hypocrisy. Because once you peel off TLJ’s supposed “progressivism”, you realise that diversity is actually horrible representation built on racism galore. So feminism here is just performative.

Generally, Vice-Admiral Holdo’s scene with Poe is seen as a case of a Strong Woman™ shutting down Mansplaining directed at her, where Poe is supposed to learn how to trust his superiors and become more “level-headed”. (Star Wars advocating for “blindly trusting authority”? Gosh. Wonder what the Rebellion was doing in the Original Trilogy then). Plot hole aside, it works, if you can ignore how Poe is mischaracterised using racist tropes of the irrational, hotheaded, misogynistic Latino; which, incidentally, is not the Poe depicted in the comics and TFA. (Same thing with the Leia scene at TLJ’s beginning - TFA Poe wouldn’t blatantly ignore orders and kill off most of his squadron just to destroy a capital ship; TFA Poe would be deathly afraid of sending his squadron to their deaths.) On the other hand, if we consider how Poe wasn’t mischaracterised, then this scene is a case of how people of colour tend not to believe white women in positions of authority due to a history of racism, or how Poe wouldn’t easily trust someone he was unfamiliar with. So, what’s going on here? Simple - A male character of colour is demonised just to prop up a white woman. “Feminism”, y’all.  

Okay, you might think: as his commanding officer, Holdo’s not obligated to tell Poe anything. But if Poe manages to mutiny with a number of Resistance personnel, then perhaps this is a case of Holdo not leading effectively? Hm? Anyway, miscommunication without sufficient buildup as a plot device is contrived and does a disservice to the characters involved. It’s not representation when it’s done at the expense of someone else, especially another marginalised identity. (Holdo deserved so much better).

Also, you’ll notice how most - if not all - of the leading ladies in TLJ are white. Pretty intersectional film, don’t you think? This is compounded by how TLJ barely passes the most basic of feminist tests - like Bechdel and Mako Mori - despite the quantity of non-white male characters and calefare abound. Ladies only ever talk about male characters, save that brief conversation between Leia and Holdo when they weren’t being condescending about Poe, and unfortunately exist just to further another male character’s arc (Rose, Rey, Holdo, Phasma…).

Plus, notice how Luke’s Caretaker aliens on Ahch-To are femme-coded...a la cis-heteronormative gender roles, thus assuming that aliens conform to a gender binary, or even have genders. I’m not lying - it was intended. How...colonial.

3) Just. Racist. Bullshit.

As mentioned, TLJ’s progressivism masks a deluge of racism. Though I’m neither Latinx nor Black, watching certain TLJ scenes left me thoroughly uncomfortable.

Did Hux and Leia really need to slap Finn and Poe respectively? Did TLJ really need to make their male characters of colour (MoC) comic relief and recipients of violence - with Leia stunning and slapping Poe, Rose tazing Finn, Phasma/Hux wanting to behead Rose and Finn (with Phasma and Hux being literal space nazis)? All of that despite Poe and Finn having recently recovered from either torture or mortal injuries? And Finn himself dealing with the trauma of being a First Order stormtrooper, emotional abuse being one such after-effect? Clearly, the pain of non-white characters is acceptable fodder for jokes, but not that of white characters - Kylo’s scenes certainly weren’t. Some of them actually had plot. Interesting contrast.

Furthermore, did TLJ have to sideline their PoC characters, least of all their MoC leads? As mentioned, Poe was mischaracterised to prop up a white woman and Finn used as comedic relief and generally denied narrative attention despite being a lead...because Kylo apparently deserved more screen time. Yeah, Finn went with Rose to Canto Bight to find Maz’s master codebreaker, which, if I’m not wrong, are called slicers. Personally, I liked the subplot - it’s a nice allegory to reality, where the military industrial complex, capitalism, and the rich go hand in hand in slowly destroying the world, aside the message of how rebelling isn’t just about fighting baddies, but fighting for people. Like inspiring the “little people”; civilians and those uninvolved in the fighting. And in the process, exploring how war affects them. (One thing though: freeing/focusing on the Fathiers instead of the child slaves on Canto Bight?)  

Then you realise that apparently, Rose Tico was created not because they needed a Rose Tico in TLJ - rather, having Finn and Poe pull a buddy-cop act on Canto Bight didn’t have the conflict that introducing a female character would. Sigh. Rose Tico, plot device. Just like Paige Tico - her death, albeit heroic, used to drive Rose into Finn’s path. Therein lies the anti-Blackness and anti-Asian aspects of the Canto Bight arc. Arguably, through their detour, Finn learns who exactly the Resistance fights for and moves past his “selfishness” of looking out only for himself and Rey - thanks to Rose’s guidance throughout their trip, which, as TLJ panned out, was eventually unnecessary and contributed little to the overall plot of “Will Kylo Finally Forsake The Dark Side?”. It’s Rose’s educating of Finn that simultaneously makes her a racist portrayal and a plot device as a Wise Asian Walking Encyclopedia to help teach a Naive Black Character about the Grim Realities of Life that Finn survived and escaped from - was he not a former stormtrooper captured by the First Order when he was a child? Perhaps Finn wasn’t adequately socialised to civilian life, thus his wide-eyed reaction to Canto’s glitz, but why wouldn’t Finn, who grew up in a traumatic and manipulative environment and recognised it for what it is, not see through Canto’s facade? Plus, Finn’s supposed development isn’t about himself; it’s about making him prioritise the needs of others over himself as if he hasn’t been doing that an entire movie ago.

Don’t know ‘bout you, but that sounds like bad writing. Bad, racist writing.

4) Centrist Reasoning

Finally! One last section to discuss. Hope everyone’s still here.

In keeping with the times, one of TLJ’s messages that stuck out was cynicism, moral ambiguity and that absolutes don’t exist. I agree, because life is never so clear-cut - but TLJ somehow simplistically portrays that. On Canto Bight, Rose tells us to “save what you love, not fight what you hate” (...despite saying she wanted to “put a fist through [the town]” just a while ago). When DJ mentions how weapons merchants sold to both the First Order and the Resistance, it’s said in a manner to somehow excuse them, or even give them a pat on the back; as if playing both sides somehow cancels the obvious self-interest driving their business decisions - but that’s assuming it’s a valid comparison in the first place. How is the Resistance, in any way, comparable to the First Order? Personally, this is just shoddy reasoning that conjures up nonexistent ambiguity. A reasoning that, when extrapolated to today’s socio-political climate, fails to clarify the power disparities between various groups in society by assuming a false equivalence. In other words, an erroneous comparison. Because however appealing it sounds, we can’t equate a fascist military organisation responsible for genocide and other inhumane practices with an organisation dedicated to thwarting it, for the sake of everyone.

You know what’s a better idea? Using Canto Bight or the First Order, through Finn’s past, to contrast between righteous anger versus mindlessly lashing out, often via violence (which, incidentally, adds nuance to the Light vs Dark Side of the Force debate). Because righteous anger, given its origins in a history of marginalisation and trauma, would be a way of ‘righting’ such wrongs despite the ‘wrongness’ associated with violence as a method. It’ll introduce moral complexity and gray-area dilemmas that TLJ craves without disregarding the sociopolitical implications of social movements and resistance. (Like, they could’ve explored the fact that the Resistance was essentially killing brainwashed First Order soldiers forced into fighting, but oh well).

So, four points to consider. But honestly? I'm only just scratching the surface. There's more nitpicking/meta online if you wish to delve. But honestly, TLJ could’ve been so much more. They had rich source material and endless ways to spin off the buildup that TFA created. And yet.

That’s why I’ll remain bitter about TLJ, and what it could’ve been.

tl;dr if you’re looking for a film that isn’t fake-deep on diversity, doesn’t contain senseless cynicism, or fulfills its narrative potential by avoiding copious plot holes and general bad writing, TLJ is not it. (psst, Rogue One did it better).

Further Reading

[breezemakewaves]

Being difficult or assertive did not come naturally to me. I spent most of my childhood and adolescent years being a shy, quiet little thing who did not question authority under any circumstance. I would see my father and uncle having heated debates in the kitchen and it was as if my mother and aunt would shoo us away. We were constantly told not to get involved. The underlying message was that women did not argue. Or at least that is how I interpreted it. I often felt that a gag was put over my mouth in relation to issues that really mattered to me. I became frustrated with myself to not have the courage to speak up about my opinion, both within the home and later on in school. Even during my BFA, my work would often speak politically but I myself had a hard time raising my voice.

I remember sitting in my first masters seminar, of 20 or so people, and consciously scolding myself for not sharing my opinion in group discussion. I thought to myself, “This is not undergrad anymore, you have to talk. No excuses.” I would often think about what I had to say multiple times in my head before sharing them with the group. However the more I started to do it the more the practice became easier. I had released something in myself that had been held back.

The past few months I have been engaging in a difficult curatorial relationship with a regional gallery. They invited me to create a new work for the front facade of their space. They ensured me that they understood that I was a grad student, working on my thesis exhibition, and currently not in the city. However they were interested in my past work on migration and told me that they were hopefully that I might be able to “bring a different kind of demographic into the gallery.” I felt uncertain about this yet I suppose somewhat appreciative that they were being honest. I decided to take on the project and wrote a proposal that I was excited about. 

Over the course of the few months I was working with them they began to put increasing pressure on the project, wanting to know what I was going to be producing months before I had indicated that I would have time to start the project.

I began to feel as if I was behaving badly by somehow not meeting deadlines or delivering on the work. However no set deadlines were ever given to. The curator acknowledged that she was anxious because she has never written about unmade work before, but at no point did she ask me about my working timeline, or how she might be able to support the production of the process. When I went in to a production meeting being made to feel like a bad teenager who had not been doing my homework. When I asked the curator why she had been interested in my work in the first place, she had indicated that the was working on a new community that was predominantly South Asian, and that she did not know very much about the history of that community. She thought that since I am South Asian I would be able to offer a different perspective. She liked that my work often uses humor, and that many works nowadays were far too angry especially towards white males. She then had the audacity to use the all too familiar phrase “My children don’t see race and colour.” 

When she said this to me my face obviously dropped. However I was recovering from a flu and mild anxiety attack from the way I was already being treated. When she said this it dawned on me that my work was being curated by someone who had no concept of basic ethics of race relations. My dread intensified when I went in for an impromptu meeting at the festival office that this exhibition was in partnership with. A friend who worked there happened to show me a preliminary blurb that was sent to him about my work. This writing had not been sent to me for approval, and in it the curator described me and my practice as “bi-racial”. I am not bi-racial nor is that a term I would ever use in relation to my practice.

In the following weeks I spoke to various friends, both artists and curators, about what was happening. I was constantly questioning if I was being over-dramatic or sensitive, but it became clear that I needed to say something as this behaviour was negatively affecting my mental health. I could hardly sleep at night and was having very intense stress dreams. I wrote a very diplomatically written email that may have leant on the edge of vague, but bascially told this person that I was very upset about the communication around this project was being handled, and that I needed them to be more sensitive about the kind of language that is used to describe my work. I also said that all written material must be approved by me before publication.

This email was forwarded to the head curator of the space, who then followed up with a phone call in which we were able to discuss my concerns. He apologized and seemed to understand my position. Following this I did not hear from either party for almost a month, until I decided to send them an update on the project. The woman who I was working with never acknowledged my email or frustrations, but implied that she was unhappy with the direction the project was going in. 

I think about being about being difficult. Was I being difficult? This is a state that physically pains me. I should have gotten angry with that woman to her face when she said that to me. The truth was I wasn’t in full health, but even if I was would I have told her off? Anger has always been a delayed reaction for me.

In On Being “Difficult”: Performing Criticality as an Art Critic of Colour Merray Gerges states “It doesn’t occur to them that performing criticality for BIPOC, especially when it involves publicly critiquing institutions and their hegemonies, is a risky enterprise that tends to have serious consequences for our reputations and for our careers.”

Before and after this meeting I went in and out of moments of feeling dizzy. I could hardly sleep at night and was having very intense stress dreams. When I told people about the situation they asked if I had yelled at her, or demanded that I not have any further contact with this person. I told my friends the things I wish I had said to this person, and they said “Good for you.” to which I clarified “no I didn’t actually say that but if it comes up again I will.”

The truth is I can’t just go off the rails in someones face every time someone says something offensive to me. It demands a lot of physical energy and I am constantly questioning my own reactions. Do I have legitimate grounds to be angry? If yes then why so? If they ask me about it what will I say? I need to do this mental work and prove to myself I have legitimate grounds to be mad before I can actually get mad at anyone.

If this was a stranger it would be much easier to just walk away. But this was someone who was attempting to have a professional relationship with me, and it was obvious that they would continue their behaviour unless I said something. I was also concerned that she would continue to treat artists of colour in this way as she kept working in this community.

I was angry that a person like this could be hired specifically for this space when they knew nothing of how to approach artists of colour or dealing with minority groups.

This week I watched the documentary ‘the Ninth Floor” directed by Mina Shum about the so-called “Computer Riots” in 1968 when a group of Caribbean students accused a professor at Sir George Williams (Now Concordia University) of racism. The school failed to acknowledge an open letter from the students, which lead to a large protest and sit in by hundreds of students of the time, many of whom occupied a large lecture auditorium and later a computer lab on the ninth floor of the Hall Building. In the film there was archival footage of a white student named Robert Hubsher saying “He is a racist and I was a racist yesterday and everyone who is not standing up for change is a racist”.  I found this statement to be paticularly moving, because it is not something that anyone would say today. That level of accountability and openness is astonishing and not something I have heard or likely will hear first person within my lifetime. Another younger student who is president of the Carribean Students Association talks about how in 60s students were dealing with open racism and today we have infrastructural and systemic racism, which is almost worse because it is invisible. 

It was moving to see the amount of people in that auditorium, the same auitorium I sit in on a weekly basis and watch students flitter in and out of while learning about social movements in art and history. In the video footage that room was packed, barely standing room. Students were yelling to a hearing committee comprised of professors. Students white and black and all genders taking to this cause and sitting in for weeks in order to have their voices and demands heard. This is not something I have witnessed in my lifetime, yet I am told that the Montreal student riots had similar scale and effect.

[bellabooks]

How I Learned to Stop Worrying About Heteronormativity and Love the Screen

I grew up on movies. More specifically, I grew up on old movies. I was raised on Rosalind Russell, Doris Day, Jimmy Stewart, and plenty of others touting transatlantic accents and the ability to deliver a monologue faster than the speed of light. My younger years were full of strong women, both on and off screen. Mame Dennis, of my favorite movie Auntie Mame, taught me the value of big, eccentric hearts. Kim Novak’s witchy character in Bell, Book, and Candle fostered my love for lore and the occult. The Bad Seed taught me not to murder someone with a tap shoe over a penmanship medal. via blogs.indiewire.com For as long as I’ve loved movies, I’ve been fascinated by the filmmaking process. I was the kid that, when DVDs became a thing, went straight to the special features for behind-the-scenes footage and candid interviews. I wanted to know how films were made, and if there was space for me in the world of filmmaking. I never really felt there was though, and so I interacted with movies from the academic side. My love for Doris Day’s The Glass Bottom Boat and Cold War era propaganda led to my undergraduate thesis. From that came my Master’s thesis on science fiction films of the 1950s. It was full of Jesus and Communism and aliens (oh my!), but watching movies counted as research so I couldn’t complain. Throughout my many years of school, I ignored any desire to pursue filmmaking. I assumed that I didn’t have any stories worth telling, or the means to tell them. For as much as I had learned from movies, I still felt my life deviated from the stories I’d seen on screen. When people ask about my “coming out story” or if I always knew I was queer, I now talk about what I like to call Some Kind of Wonderful Syndrome. In Some Kind of Wonderful, Mary Stuart Masterson (of Fried Green Tomatoes fame) plays Watts, a high school girl strongly coded as queer who is in secret-love with her best guy friend. Watts epitomizes the kind of female characters I was always drawn to, but her stereotypical story arc is precisely why I pushed my own queerness down until my late teens. It’s a classic story of a tomboy, hopelessly in love with a male friend, who struggles with singledom until said male friend wakes up one day to realize the girl he wants has been in front of him this whole time. Given that I was once a tomboy with many male friends, that’s how I thought my life would go. I figured I’d eventually have my ugly-duckling-to-beautiful-swan moment, get the guy, and be done with the whole ordeal. That is not how my life turned out; I eventually caught wind of The L Word through the budding-queer grapevine and it was all downhill from there. What movies like Some Kind of Wonderful inadvertently taught me, though, was that women, even the seemingly-queer ones, needed a very specific form of validation. Looking back on the movies I love, I now realize that many of my favorite on-screen women were motivated by their desire to get the guy. via contac.tumblr.com I was always a big fan of shows like Charmed that featured kickass, complex women. I think it’s safe to say that Piper Halliwell was one of my first loves; to see a woman portrayed as strong and vulnerable, anxious and practical, prone to cynicism but still a bit of a romantic, was delightful. The demons and witchcraft were also a plus. What would pull me out of shows like that was the inevitable inclusion of a love interest (usually male) that drove my beloved female characters away from their core stories. It wasn’t that these relationships were always haphazardly thrown in, or that I couldn’t identify with them on some level; they just felt like unwelcome reminders of all the ways I differed from the characters I looked up to. Like most LGBTQ folk my age, I survived on subtext and The L Word. We’re often told that characters and stories on screen are supposed to be universal, but to deprive people of nuanced experiences on screen is to render entire groups invisible. I have no doubt that I would have been able to sort out my identity sooner had I seen more queer characters in movies and on TV. via rebloggy.com The way that Alex Danvers’ coming out was portrayed on Supergirl, for example, really hit home for me. She is but one part of the upsurge in queer and trans representation, which has rightfully spawned conversations on how these characters are treated. It is difficult to believe you exist when you don’t see yourself on screen. And if, when you do see yourself, you are entrenched in tragedy or killed, the implication is that to exist is to suffer. The increased number of LGBTQ characters on screen is an undeniable positive, but I think what many of us sense is lacking is an increased presence behind the scenes, in the writers’ room, on set. What has changed the game, in my mind, is the advent of the webseries. via www.fanforum.com It is unsurprising that, in an industry like film and television, we have to create and fund our own stories if we want to see them. This method of producing content for LGBTQ audiences has seen success in shows like Carmilla, Her Story, and Couple-ish. What makes these shows so engaging is not only the direct involvement of queer and trans creators, but also the accessibility and transparency of both the shows themselves and the people behind them. Whether it was my own ignorance or a consequence of growing up in southern California, I always felt that, to work in film and television, you had to go from zero to Hollywood overnight. I started questioning this notion when I came across the Carmilla series while in graduate school. I binged the first half of season 1 (all the episodes available to me) late one night instead of prepping for a thesis presentation. I had never really seen a webseries, let alone a successful, low-budget, freely-accessible, referential one featuring queer and non-binary people. What drew me in was not only the story and wit, but also the simple pleasure of seeing queer people my age creating a wonderful thing together. Her Story and Couple-ish gave me similar warm and fuzzy feelings, and the idea that I could help create things instead of dedicating my time to writing about others’ creations. These shows, among a few others, gave me the representation I had been looking for and tipped the scales in favor of going to film school. Now I’m at the starting line of what could very well be a career I never bothered to dream of. Regardless of whether or not I wind up working in the industry (please hire me), I now know I have stories worth telling, and I’m excited to see how those of others manifest themselves, on screen or otherwise. It’s encouraging to see so many young queer and trans folk creating things in spite of adversity. Our stories are topical, and to know that there are communities in the world trying to elevate them makes me hopeful that the next generation of queer kids will feel a little less lost. Keep making your art.   Feature image via haroldlloyds.tumblr.com   http://dlvr.it/NcYRSN