Tag Archives: wishful thinking

it’s best not to be in love unless it’s complicated

I’ve clocked a lot of iPod time lately instead of reading time. My new job (!) is usually just me hanging out at the computer doing computer stuff, so music is necessary for my sanity. I’ve been downloading a lot of good stuff lately, thanks to deals from Amazon and this lovely new thing called Freegal that is cropping up at libraries here and there. So I’ve added some Neko Case, Vanessa Carlton, Ingrid Michaelson, and more to my library. But no matter how much music I accumulate, I tend to glom onto certain albums and listen to them excessively, until I am sure of which songs are my favorites and until I imagine myself inside the album and live and swim in it and just love it unconditionally and forever.

I do this mostly with albums that are by bands or duos where two people are pretty much equally the lead singer. It’s especially my favorite when it’s a male and female voice because it feels really intimate, which I admit is rather heteronormative and not actually very fair, but hey, I grew up in America. Also, the Pierces go onto my list of duos I can listen to forever, and they’re sisters.

Anyway. Bands/albums I listen to way too much because I love the dual quality of the lead vocal: Jenny and Johnny’s I Am Having Fun Now, anything by the Pierces, a lot of Rilo Kiley’s Under the Blacklight (okay, I also have a Jenny Lewis fetish), most stuff by Stars, same with She & Him, and the latest album I’ve added to that list is the Civil Wars’ Barton Hollow. Continue reading

vanity! (sung to the tune of “agony” from “into the woods”)

I am actually more on the girly end of the spectrum than the tomboy side, though I think that binary is absurd. I refuse to leave my house if I don’t look showered and generally put together, I own a ton of hair products, and I’m happy to get free makeup samples when I buy my Clinique moisturizer twice a year. But I’m also very forgetful, so my relationship with makeup is generally the kind where I’m walking to the T and then I remember, “Oh, shoot! I was going to put on mascara today so that I would look pretty!” I own a lot of it, and I’m always happy when someone competent is playing with my hair or putting my makeup on for me, but I guess I don’t have the gene where you naturally know how to do your hair and makeup yourself. Also, not being particularly gifted with my optic sense, I am fascinated by people who cut my hair or people who can look at a magazine photo and copy a celebrity’s makeup, because I honestly don’t know what it is that they’re seeing in the follicles or eye folds, because I literally cannot see that kind of detail.

Anyway. This summer, when I was teaching high schoolers, I noticed how much makeup they were wearing. And I came to the realization that at 22 (now 23), I have reached the point where it really is important to kind of bow to society’s demands and wear a little makeup and present myself in a way that will not hinder my ability to get job interviews, be taken seriously, be seen as my age (I got carded for buying a lottery ticket on New Year’s Eve and was told I didn’t just look under 21; I looked under 18). Also, my body seems to have gotten confused about when you’re supposed to have acne, and instead of giving it to me when you’re supposed to get it, when your life already sucks as a teenager, I have it now. Anyway, I’ve now gotten mostly used to being a little more primpy on a somewhat regular basis. My eyebrows are always at some level of plucked, which is good, because I actually like the way they look now. I also wash my face at night before bed. In summary, I do all kinds of things that normal American girls have been doing since they were 12, except I started when I was 22. Continue reading

researchin’

Last week I went down to New York for a day and a half to do research for the novel I tell people I’m working on. It was a really illuminating experience for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I don’t really know what doing research with primary documents entails. For a library school student at a college that boasts a huge archives program, I’ve never really been in an archives, so stepping into Schomburg was new for me. And then I’ve also never done research to write a novel before, not having finished a long narrative work since the novel I wrote when I was 12 (I think it was 54 pages, single spaced, which is actually not all that bad). But I’m in the school of fake it til you make it, so I was all prepared to fake it.

Fake it I did. But I felt rather awkward. The biggest two things I’ve learned in library school thus far are that everyone is excited that you’re in it until you ask working librarians for help/interviews/jobs, and then they stop being interested in you, and also that you can’t work in a library unless you’ve already worked in a library/you can’t know how to use an archives unless you already know how to use it. And that’s exactly what happened at Schomburg–I’m sure it’s not on purpose, but archivists tend to kind of look at you like you’re a jackass for not knowing how to behave in an archives, but really that’s absurd, because it’s not even a library, so it’s not exactly like you learned the proper usage of one back in elementary school. Anyway, I figured it out, got my temporary NYPL card (!), and found out that the sound archives I requested weren’t there yet, but that I could go upstairs and look at the rest of the stuff I wanted. Continue reading

imagination spaces

When Amanda was visiting me, we talked about things to do in Boston, and we realized that we are not compatible museumgoers. It’s funny that museums are especially a kind of thing that you can’t enjoy with just anyone. We all have our favorite people to do certain things with, but there are things that we can do with everyone and find them enjoyable, or at least palatable. Museums, though, require really compatible companions.

I noticed this in Prague when my friend Emily became the only person interested in going to museums, for one, and we both had the same way of mostly ignoring each other but sometimes talking about the art or exhibits, and other times making silly comments, like how I really want reproductions of the plates that Salvador DalĂ­ painted on for my house. Things worked out perfectly for us both because we didn’t expect the museum to be a place where we were going to socialize, per se, and also we wanted to spend about the same amount of time there. It’s hard to find a museum soulmate. Continue reading

self assured

The last thing I was a a teenager was self secure. Even now I struggle with that. I’m crazy awkward (which is why, when my sister shared The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl with me, it really resonated), I’ve spent most of my life knowing who I am but trying to be something else, and I’m just generally uneasy at how I appear to other people.

I’ve gotten a lot better. For the most part, I don’t care what people think, and I’m finally old enough that I know who I am, I’ve accepted it, and I deal with it. I have embarrassing moments that I’d rather not think about, but that doesn’t mean I regret things. I don’t bother with regret. There are maybe three things from the last few years that I regret. The rest were experiences. If I appear awkward or nerdy, I’m fine with that. It pains me to sound so cheesy, but it’s really about just being true to yourself and happy with who you are.

I’m always really impressed when I meet teenagers now who are totally secure with being silly, nerdy, or otherwise not totally on par with the status quo. Some of my students this summer reminded me of who I was before I cared about who I was. I know a few high schoolers who are totally fine with having blue hair or whose friends are in college or who would rather focus on writing music than going to the mall, and I wish that I had spent more time in high school doing the things I really wanted to, rather than stress about the things that weren’t me but I wished were, like going to parties and acting slutty.

And then the other night when I went to the 12:01am showing of the final Harry Potter movie, I was in line next to two girls (14 or 15, about to be high school freshmen), and I was so impressed with how content they were just to be the two of them, in public, with all their silliness out in the open.

It’s not like dressing up for a Harry Potter movie premiere isn’t something that nearly everyone does, regardless of age. But these girls were not just dressed up. The mother of one of them left to buy snacks at Target, so my friend and I were kind of babysitting their stuff while the girls came back and forth, using the line as a home base and getting up every time they saw a new character costume so that they could pose with the person. Like posing with princesses at Disneyland. It reminded me of freshman year of high school, when I went to Disneyland with one of my best friends and we spent one of our three days there looking for as many characters as possible.

These girls were so much like me when I get excited and manic, it was crazy. Except that they were really sweet, and when I get manic, sometimes I scare myself because I’m incapable of shutting up. “Did you see the Snitch girl? We have to find her. Can you watch our Red Vines?” Then later, one of the girls came back from the bathroom. “Mrs. Weasley is peeing. We have to go take a picture with her right now.” I advised that they make sure it wasn’t just a regular woman who didn’t know she looked costumed, but she assured me that the woman was wearing an apron, so that made it okay.

One of the girls’ mother had refused to buy her a bunch of overpriced franchised material, so she made her own broomstick out of bamboo and dead cactus. Aside from missing varnish, it looked pretty much exactly like the ones in the films. When they took breaks from running around, they talked with me and my friend about characters they’d seen, other movie premiere experiences, and how excited they were for the movie. It reminded me why I’ve chosen library science in general, and why I’ve more specifically chosen youth services. I want every teenager I meet to be as vivacious, self assured, fun loving, and into books and movies and games as these girls. I want to be everybody’s teacher, big sister, and best friend. Well, kind of. More I just want to watch and guide and mentor, I guess. It was so much fun getting to know them, and because they reminded me of myself, when I used to sing songs from “My Fair Lady” at the top of my lungs, complete with perfect pitch and decent Cockney accent, not at all worried about who was listening. Some self assured teenagers scare me, as they do everyone, because teenagers aren’t supposed to know who they are unless who they are is a nerd. Teenagers who are already who they will be as adults are threatening, if also fascinating, and I won’t lie and say they don’t make me a little jealous. But these girls were perfect.

My favorite part was when they started using their homemade wands and battling with them, almost as if they were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors or Dungeons & Dragons (I’m just guessing about the second one, because I’ve never played or watched a game of D&D, but as far as I know, this is how it’s played). They threw curses at each other, standing properly the way Snape might tell them to in a Wizard Dueling seminar. And as each one cursed the other, they would qualify or modify the game. “Okay, that’s just a serpent spell, so I can’t really do anything, because now there’s a snake crawling everywhere.” Or, “How do I know when you’ve stopped the Cruciatus curse and I can stand up again and curse you back?”

We were finally let inside the theatre, and I sort of forgot about them as my friend and I started gossiping and chatting with the girls sitting next to us. Then I heard applause, and I wondered what it was. Everyone was looking down at the floor of the theatre, where the same two girls were still dueling. One had just fallen to the floor, “dead,” and the other was victorious.

They continued dueling, searching for photo ops, and eating sugary snacks until the movie began.

As soon as the screen darkened, I was over the whole thing. I’m relieved it’s all over. But I’m so happy that those two girls were in the same line as me. I hope high school changes them and grows them up in all the good ways, but I really hope that it doesn’t kill or edit the personalities that I saw the other night.

can i be a drag queen, please?

Last night I went out with coworkers from one of my jobs. We went to happy hour and then to a restaurant/bar to see their 9 o’clock drag show. This was the third or fourth time I’ve been to a drag show, though the first time at this particular restaurant. I love them. I think they’re fabulous. And I admit, not being a part of the LGBTQQIA community (I might consider myself A, and I certainly have friends in the other categories, but I can’t claim to really be an active member in the community), I don’t know a whole lot about the history, the culture, the intent, and the psychology behind drag, but I think I do get it a little more than the average layperson who has never been. I would really like to experience one in a bigger city, where maybe they sing instead of lip synch, and where the crowd is a little more diverse. But still, I had so much fun, and I keep thinking how I almost wish I could be on the stage, or at least that I could take sexy lessons from some of the queens, and last night while I was watching, I was trying to figure out why.

One thing is that I think gender play and gender bending is really interesting, fun, and really important in a society where gender is so normalized and binary. At the museum where I work, there is constantly a conversation that in some way leads to “But boys won’t like that” or “We need more girl toys in the gift shop,” and I hate it. But at the same time, I get it, because girls just won’t buy dinosaur puzzles, and boys won’t buy butterfly wands. And even things that should be very neutral at least in its commercialism is totally gender-ified, like a molding kit that you have to buy two of, because one is a brown box with dinosaur moldings and the other is a pink box with flower molding. And much as I like to think that toys should be gender neutral, they aren’t marketed that way, and so kids won’t choose to see them that way. And I’m one to talk, because even with my very liberal parents, who never bought Barbies or Disney stuff, I was still far more interested in cooking and dressing up than I was in trains and dinosaurs. So when people are able to get past the way they were brainwashed and explore other identities and forms of expression, I think it’s awesome. I think a lot of the reason I find it awesome is probably because I don’t really have the confidence (or personal interest) in doing so. I might be hard pressed to remember to put makeup on in the morning, but I love wearing dresses and probably appear to be pretty cisfemale. Because there is no real way to control for nature and nurture when you’ve already been nurtured, I’m not sure how much of that is just the person I was predetermined to be or whether, even with conscientious parents, I was still socialized into being that way. It’s probably a combination of both. So anyone who can overcome socialization is, frankly, awesome, just because that takes a lot of self awareness, confidence, and creativity.

Confidence and creativity are the other things I adore about drag shows. From where I’m sitting, at least, they seem like such an empowering environment. I love to sing and belt, but I’m more apt to be found blending in with a choir than be found with a microphone AND a sparkly dress being loud and solo. I even love karaoke, but I require alcohol and my eyes to be closed to sing out. And I’m only half joking about the sexy lessons. I was very confident as a child, but it didn’t take long for my more shy and self conscious side to take over. Having gigantic breasts and a mother who couldn’t do your frizzy hair will do that for you. I’m very, very happy in my personal bubble and find very few reasons to break out of it. Sometimes I do, but it’s usually when I’m in a hypomanic stage anyway, and I feel crappy about it because I go over the top and can’t stop talking. I think my personality is more suited to being a quiet, introverted person (though most people I know think it’s hilarious to think of me as shy), but sometimes I miss being the girl who was a natural leader (because ever since eighth grade, I’ve lacked the charisma to be seen as one by my peers), who wore crazy colorful dresses (it took my sister to point out that I own almost no shirts that aren’t a solid color or a band, and most of my dresses are solid colors as well), and who would dance or sing for anyone for any reason. And drag queens exude a confidence beyond a regular performer. I think there’s something about the fact that not only are they being confident in the sense that not everyone can get over stage fright, but they’re also performing gender and turning social normativity on its head.

The audience interaction is better than a lot of other performers’ audience banter. Some singers are just awful at sounding natural in the in-betweens at concerts, and it just hurts to hear them try. I love that drag shows are interactive, movable. I love that you tip the performers and perform the tipping ritual in a way that both mimics and makes fun of how you tip strippers, and that again is a form of play with gender identity, social customs, and sexual objectification. I love that people play with the boundaries of appropriate touch, and so far in my experience, no one has felt truly, debilitatingly uncomfortable with that, even if they didn’t expect to have their breasts shaken by a strange man in a wig. I love that the queens come out after the show, in various states of undress/gender re-integration (if that is an appropriate, acceptable made-up term), and just hang out and talk, and unlike many celebrities, are happy to show you that they are real people, not just stage creatures.

Then there’s the simple fact that, at every “normal” club I have been at, the music selection is at best subpar, and at every gay club I’ve gone to, the music selection is awesome. Last night was no exception. Great mix of music both for dancing and lip synching. Singing or lip synching, since you’re probably just singing with low volume anyway, is such a sensitive, emotive, self-exposing thing to to do. So when somebody is able to be that comfortable with exposing themselves in a variety of socially uncomfortable ways, I’m drawn. And I’m jealous.

appropriating sociology and social justice

Actually, “appropriation” is not exactly the correct word to use here, but what I’m talking about is how I’ve realized that I’ve become really into reading sociology blogs, librarians’ blogs, “stuff white people like”-esque blogs (because there are so many in that vein, both more and less serious than swpl), and “multicultural literature” blogs lately, and even though I know that it is because I am passionate about the issues presented in said blogs, I wonder also if it’s just a new way of asserting my intellectual eliteness. And about how it just feels good to have a cause. Like, is the cause (that you believe in wholeheartedly, like me in sociology, literature, and the importance of expanding the canon, changing publishing traditions, etc) itself the delicious icing on the cake that is being a person who is passionate? I am quite sure that the person I am is someone who enjoys discussion and analysis the way other people like watching football games, and that is part of the reason I devour other people’s discussions, even when I don’t take part. But I also worry if I’m fully cognizant of my intent when I engage in sociological discussion.

There are two main reasons why I worry:

1. In high school and before, I was constantly “shaping” my identity in very obvious, sometimes insincere ways. I was young and impressionable and obsessed with getting people to like me and validate my interests/clothes/choices/etc. So I spent a lot of time getting into certain types of music, styles, etc. Some of those things still interest me today, and some things I’m still into today are things I got into regardless of what they would do to my high school persona (probably why I never succeeded in being popular), but sometimes I stop and wonder to myself why I do certain things or listen to certain music, and I wonder if I’m still trying to be popular. I would say I am a huge success in that I only think about what people from high school would think about 5% of the time. But 5 is still greater than 0.

2. When I spend hours on my computer, reading blogs and newspapers, I am certainly expanding my knowledge of things and learning how to be a more critical, liberal, well-rounded, informed person. But I am also certainly “wasting my time” and avoiding doing other things that, arguably, could also make me a better person in many of those ways. When I read months-old comments on a blog post I find mildly interesting, I could be a) eating a snack (because since giving up gluten, I am always hungry….suggestions?), b) “doing” something rather than thinking and discussing the problems of the world–like, I could be at a protest march or volunteering or getting to know someone new, or c) I could be adding something new to the conversation (the problem with people discussing the humanities is that often the important issues are only discussed in a preaching to the choir kind of way) and actually attempting to fix a social problem in my own small way–like, I could be working on my writing, which ideally will deal with issues I care about and become a part of an expanded, more socially conscious canon–instead of just nodding my head and saying, “Mmhmm.”

So have I taken my cause in a cultural appropriation kind of way, or just in a football fan kind of way?

everyone has a christmas

This post is inspired by this post at Racialicious. The comment I posted there appears at the bottom of this page.

I don’t know about you, but I had the best Christmas this year.

I grew up vaguely celebrating the holiday, since my father is Catholic but he and my mother raised me and my sister Jewish. Like, we didn’t really give gifts to each other on Hanukkah but rather waited until the 25th (we did that up until this year, actually, when my parents were out of town and my sister was with her husband’s family), we would sometimes remember to buy a tree (and they smell amazing, so I’m always down for a Christmas tree), and I’ve been to Mass a handful of times in my life. But this December 25th was particularly awesome because I was alone in my house, I slept late, I took a bubble bath, I watched a movie, I did a puzzle, I read a book, and in general I did all the lovely, lazy things I always want to do when I have the day off from work, but this time I didn’t really have any chores to do or errands to run, so I got to do them all, instead of just some.

I don’t really understand Christmas anyway. I know it’s the reappropriation of Jesus’ birthday to a more convenient time coinciding with the winter solstice, but I don’t really understand how a jolly old man who fits into chimneys got added into the mix. And of all the people I know who celebrate Christmas, both the religious ones and the non-religious ones, the holiday is mostly about tone-deaf people singing aesthetically unpleasing music, cookies, and presents. That’s all fine, because that’s just how it goes in America, and other holidays have gone that way, too. And in a way, I think the fact that Christmas is forced on everyone makes it even less religious and more just a national pastime, like watching the Superbowl or giving each other Valentines. But if you happen to actively practice a religion that doesn’t care so much about Jesus, people stop seeing Christmas as that American consumerist holiday and try to tell you how religiously significant it still is, and how you must have your own Christmas, like Hanukkah! Because they come at the same time of year, so Hanukkah is totally the Jewish Christmas, right?

Except it’s not, because Hanukkah isn’t even canon; it’s just extra. And fun as it is to have a holiday that basically requires you to eat fried food, it’s not all that important aside from that. If you want to say that Christmas has a huge religious significance, the “equivalent” has to be Passover for the Jews. I hate it when people think that everyone has to have a Christmas, first because it makes Christmas the norm and other holidays the other, and because it mistakenly assumes that Christmas has a religious significance that for most people it has lost, and because it assumes that all religions are the same. And in a way they are, but I think they’re the same in that their mythologies all have some essential truths or storylines that are similar, not because they all celebrate a virgin birth by going to the mall every day in December.

This is all a diatribe of how little I care for or about Christmas, because I don’t feel like it’s a holiday that has any tie to my personality, my religion, or my budget. I’m also realizing that I just don’t care about most holidays, period. I abhor finding something to do on New Year’s Eve, because personally, I find it rather stupid. At midnight the calendar is going to change. Well, newsflash, but that happens every midnight. Yesterday was a different day, too. Also I hate any holiday that purports to be about inherent, incumbent personal change or that requires you to have a boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/whatever or that has all these social rules tied to it about what you can wear and how much you have to drink, etc. Usually I watch movies on New Year’s Eve and fall asleep before midnight. But I feel obligated to do something because we’re all socialized that it is the correct thing to do. And that is, I think, the problem with Christmas as well. I mean, I participate in Secret Santas and all, too, because it’s easier to do so than to explain why I’m not going to, and because it’s always nice to get a present. And if you really feel as if Christmas is personally significant, whether it’s because of religion, the fun family dinner, getting presents, or because you somehow enjoy how crowded the mall is after Thanksgiving, then you should celebrate it. But I think Christmas and other holidays, at least in the United States, are more about socialization than anything else. We are obligated to participate, whether or not it goes with our religious, personal, financial, or social identities, because that’s the way society is set up. Our lives revolve around moving from one holiday to another. It would just be nice if we tried a little harder to see that not all holidays are created equal, and not all people care about all holidays equally.

And here is the comment I left at Racialicious:

I work at a children’s museum, and from November to February, we have various “festivals of friendship,” where we center an afternoon around a holiday or cultural celebration and have various folk art crafts, musical/dance performances, story readings, etc. We started with a luau, then we had Hanukkah, then Christmas, and next on the list are MLK Day, Chinese New Year, and Carnaval. I think it’s a nice start, even if it is missing things like Diwali and Eid, and even if Hanukkah is a fairly unimportant holiday religiously (Passover is far more important, I would say, and even in terms of kids’ celebrations, Purim would be far more entertaining). But I do have people wondering if, because I’m black, I’m going to be celebrating Kwanzaa (our daily craft on Sunday was an mkeka mat), which confuses them, because I’m also Jewish and “celebrate” Hanukkah, and I’ve never met a single person who celebrates Kwanzaa. Not to mention, things like decorating in “Christmas colors” and “Hanukkah colors” (I don’t consider Hanukkah to really have colors, since the ones we use just seem to be based on the fact that those are the colors of the Israeli flag) or baking Kwanzaa cakes are all ways of making other holidays seem like Christmas. It’s especially funny given that most people, when only talking about Christmas, bemoan its lack of religious basis nowadays, since it’s mostly about consumerism, and it’s not as if Jesus brings you presents to celebrate your birthday, so it’s already become muddled with other mythologies and traditions and holidays.

My favorite thing about the holidays, which was also my least favorite thing, was the other day at work when we made candy cane reindeer, and four Orthodox Jewish boys wanted to participate. For one positive thing, theirs were the most creative and interesting reindeer, probably because for them, it was just a craft, not something that had to end up resembling Rudolph to be correctly made, and for the negative thing, they weren’t sure if they could eat the candycanes, because the box didn’t say anything about whether it was kosher. I had to go and google the box and call Target, and ended up getting no information and assuming they were not kosher, because they were cheap, and cheap candy companies can’t usually afford to be kosher. I would say those boys are an example of what inclusiveness should be about–participating in a “seasonal,” holiday-specific activity just to have fun and learn a little, but also an example of how inclusiveness fails when the dominant culture won’t make concessions. I wish someone would be as willing to dress up for Purim or celebrate Diwali as these boys were to make Rudolphs that they couldn’t even eat.

movies about true events; movies where white people don’t belong

I posted a Facebook status today after reading the amazing story about the Chilean miners. It’s pretty amazing to see what a system for living they came up with during the two months (!) they were stuck inside. I really do have a lot of respect and admiration for them, and I wish them the best, but that’s so not the point of this post. My status was about how I bet it’s not long until Hollywood makes a movie about it and puts a bunch of white guys in it to star as Chilean miners. Brad Pitt, Ethan Hawke, or Jake Gyllenhaal will be the lead, and there will be one Mexican guy with the wrong accent to make it “authentic” (because everyone who speaks Spanish looks and sounds the same), kind of like how Rita Moreno was secondary to Natalie Wood in “West Side Story” but made it more legit, because at least she’s actually Puerto Rican.

Another thing I could talk about is how it’s actually okay for people of one race to portray people of another race in a film. Because films are art, not life. Right?

Except that art imitates life. Also, it’s really not okay, because it’s only okay in one situation, and that unfairness means that really, it should just be considered completely not okay. You should only play the race that you are. Here’s why: white people play everyone, but if I wanted to be in a movie that takes place in 1700s upper class Britain, I would be told that that would be anachronistic, because black people wouldn’t have been there. Or if I wanted to play Hillary Clinton in a biopic, I would be told that that’s not right, because she’s not black. But if Lindsay Lohan wanted to play Imelda Marcos, they’d dye her hair and do her makeup to make her look Asian. If it’s okay for the white people, it has to be okay for everyone. Or it has to be not okay for everyone. Pick one, Hollywood.

I have no doubt that in the next five years, there will be a film about this. I think that’s a little crass. It’s like movies about 9/11. Or the new movie about Valerie Plame. It’s too recent. Give it time to die. Give the people in it time to die, or at least time to scuttle back into their lives. (Also, in general, Hollywood needs to write its own stories every once in awhile and stop stealing from books and current events. That would be nice.) And, though I know this will never change because it’s not how society works, it would be really nice if, when those movies do get made, that the cast at least looked like the real people would have looked. That is, not all smolderingly attractive, and NOT ALL WHITE. This will do a lot of things: a) make Hollywood look less racist; b) not appropriate stories belonging to a group of people and decide that they belong to a different group; c) help the general public see value in people who are not usually depicted in films; d) allow struggling actors who are not usually the kind of people cast in films to be cast in films; and e) be a more valid film. The other option is for people to come up with their own original stories and do whatever they want with them, rather than taking something real and fictionalizing nearly everything about it to suit a studio’s agenda. It’s one thing to combine minor characters or take out a few storylines. It’s another to pretend something is “real” or “history” and make it as unrealistic and historically inaccurate as possible.

black hermione

Don’t you love it when things you thought about all the time when you were younger and assumed were silly are validated by other people who also secretly thought the same thing? Enter this article.

The problem with articles like this is that it’s preaching to the choir, which is self-gratifying, but rarely does it accomplish anything. It makes me sad.

Then there’s also what Neesha Meminger said, which can be applied to literature, movie casting, political party affiliation, and tons of other things:

But here’s the thing. For some people, being “political” is not a choice. Stating that racism, sexism, homophobia, classism, etc., exist – to some folks – is simply stating a reality, while others have the luxury (privilege) to choose not to address it, engage with it, or even acknowledge it. I’m not really sure what a polarizing political post is – maybe a call to action? But I do think it’s good for agents to state their preferences, just as I think it’s good for writers to continue stating their views. Because, really, there are no apolitical views. The political runs through our day-to-day lives, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. Choosing not to write political posts IS a political act. Choosing not to see “colour” or race IS a political act. Choosing not to engage in discourse around power and privilege is exercizing that very privilege, and it is most definitely a political act.

I guess this little compilation is just my way of saying that I want to be a part of the people who engage in political acts that counter the dominant norm. And that’s not even going to do much, because for the most part I am in Meminger’s group–that is, the people who have no choice not to acknowledge those things, because they are a reality. So I hope people who do have the choice make the better one–to acknowledge it.