This Republic of Something

Back in 2017, I submitted a photo and personal story to the National Museum of the Army. The museum was still being built, and they were gathering exhibition material from the larger Army community for various permanent and special exhibits. What I sent in was for the exhibit "Growing Up Army," focused on the children of Army families. I wrote about postcards and adventure. My dad sent me my first postcard in 1987. He was on TDY (temporary duty travel) in Puerto Rico. In the postcard, he described going to the beach when they had downtime, and seeing and catching fish. He signed off with "Be good," something my dad has written on every postcard he's sent me since. It's a thing; he says it to me on the phone before we hang up and when I leave after a visit. I guess my dad always knew I was the "troublemaker" of the family (a rather tame troublemaker, but still). I also sent in copies of a couple of pictures of me, my brother, and dad at an Army field day at Ft. McCoy in Wisconsin (at least I think that's where it's at). I'm a very little girl, sitting inside a very large Army vehicle, smiling like it's the best day ever (because it probably was at the time). It's adorable.

I have no idea if my submitted materials will be in the exhibit. The National Museum of the Army was supposed to open in June, but of course, that's been put on hold right now. My dad is a volunteer at the museum, because of course he is, and he's hopeful that they'll open soon. I'm guessing sometime in 2021, but who knows when anything is going to happen anymore. 

My dad was in the Army for 30 years. We moved all around the US, and he had an amazing career. He worked at the Pentagon, ran logistics for units during the first Gulf War, commanded a base through its closure, and served as Deputy Chief for the Pacific Command. He was/is respected by his colleagues, and probably did a lot of stuff I'll never really know about. When we lived in Hawaii, I was taking classes in the political science graduate program at the University of Hawaii, and I'll never forget the time my dad agreed to come to one of my classes to discuss modern warfare. He had read the book we were discussing in his own graduate program, and was well versed in a few of the other books we had on our syllabus for the semester. I think my classmates thought they were getting some uneducated "grunt," but instead got to debate with someone who knew a lot more than they did. One of my classmates argued that all military operations should be unclassified. My dad explained, and I can't remember his exact words, why that was a terrible idea and more specifically, why none of us really want to know that sort of information. We think we do, but we don't. I think about a lot. 

When you grow up in the military, patriotism is a very interesting point of discussion. I think a lot of people have this set idea of what a military family is and should be like; very "rally round the flag" kind of stuff. That's not my experience. My dad has never told me to think a certain way or believe a certain thing because of his career. Did he instill a love of country and service and respect in us? Yes, but he didn't do in a way that was absolute. My parents have always encouraged me and my brother to question authority and injustice. They wanted us to form our own opinions, even, and especially if those opinions were different from their's. I wouldn't be the delightful feminist/activist you all know and love if they hadn't been supportive and encouraging. We don't agree on everything. They push me, I push them. 

Growing up in a military family is weird. My family is the least military military family I know, but there's still stuff that doesn't make sense to people from outside. I've been to way more airshows and patriotic programs than I care to admit (some good, most very bad). I've seen the extraordinary sense of duty of of my father and his colleagues in action. I've heard people say hateful, ugly things about the military for no reason. I remember my dad telling us about changing clothes before flying because he and his unit didn't want to be harassed (in 1989). I spent the first Gulf War worrying my dad was going to die in Iraq. (His larger unit went in country, but he did not. I didn't understand the difference at that time.) While I appreciate the fact that everyone "loves" the troops now, I question how we got to this point. When did y'all just decide that recognizing those in the military at sporting events was a thing? 

But I digress.

Where am I going with this? 

I'm struggling with the idea of celebrating July 4th this year. Normally, I love the 4th. Fun fact: it's my third favorite holiday. Military celebrations of July 4th are always the best; this is one of the "traditional" things I loved about being a "child of." The 4th was special always so special. One of my favorite memories from my dad's time at the Pentagon was being able to sit on the Pentagon lawn to watch the fireworks from DC. We hung out with his co-workers and their families, had a nice picnic, and watch the fireworks. It was so beautiful and patriotic and so very American. The civics nerd in me just loved it. 

But this year, it seems like an odd flex to celebrate the "birth of American independence," while also thinking about the fact that 130,000 Americans have died from COVID-19. That's a hard number to come to terms with. I've been thinking a lot lately about the book This Republic of Suffering by Drew Gilpin Faust. Gilpin Faust is a historian, and the first female President of Harvard University. A lot of her work focuses on the impact the Civil War had on society, often looking at the experience of women during and after the war. In This Republic of Suffering, she details the way in which mourning customs and processing death had to change because of the devastating loss of life during the Civil War, and the way in which soldiers died. Often, a body wasn't recovered, and this completely shattered the rituals associated with the concept of "the Good Death;" the idea that someone is prepared to die. How can someone prepare to die on the battlefield at Gettysburg or in the prison camp at Andersonville? Families had to adjust to this way of mourning, often with nothing to mourn at all. Scarcity of things like fabric also subverted how women moved through the stages of mourning if they lost a husband or other family member. 

I read the book not too long after it was released in 2008. I can see it on my bookshelf when I sit at my desk for work. I keep coming back to the idea that we're in another period of time where we're forced to rethink how we approach death and mourning. People are watching their loved ones die on iPads. Funerals are on hold, or reduced to quick ceremonies that don't allow family and friends to adequately grieve together, often an essential part of healing. In New Orleans, for example, jazz funerals and second lines aren't allowed because of the restrictions on crowds. Cultural practices like this are essential for grieving, but currently cant't take place because we physically can't be together. Maybe I've been spending too much time alone these days, but I can't help think about this and contrast it with the many celebrations that will take place this weekend. While I understand the power and necessity of normal rituals, (I went to the post-Katrina Mardi Gras, I get it), this feels so different.

I think it's gross that a fireworks display is going to take place at Mt. Rushmore. This is incredibly dangerous from an environmental standpoint. The area near Mt. Rushmore is highly susceptible to fires. That's one of the reasons fireworks have been banned from the park for the last decade. It's also in violation of the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 that designates the area as part of the Sioux Reservation. Mt. Rushmore is on stolen land, but of course, we don't want to talk about that. People coming to this event/rally don't have to social distance or wear masks. What could possibly go wrong? Literally everything. 

I don't know, y'all. How do we reconcile reality with the need for normalcy? How do we celebrate the "birth of American independence" when police are still violently assaulting peaceful protesters and people just out living their lives? How do some continue to ignore racism in our daily lives when a new video pops up every day of some white woman (white women - what the fuck are you doing?) threatening grocery store employees or brandishing weapons at a Black woman and her daughter in a parking lot? How are we okay with obvious shows of pandering patriotism like the event at Mt. Rushmore when the 45 hasn't said anything about Russian bounties on American soldiers? How do we celebrate when so many have been lost? 

I don't have any answers for you. I'm not going to tell you how to spend your weekend or celebrate this July 4th. By the time I hit publish on this post, most of my friends will have watched Hamilton on Disney+ for the 400th time. At least they're staying inside. 

It would be nice if we all took a few minutes this July 4th and reflected on what we have lost as a nation, if we collectively grieved and mourned for those lost to this horrible pandemic. I don't expect our sham president to ask for silence or to even acknowledge this at his rally, so we'll have to do it ourselves. So maybe tomorrow, before you set out to do whatever it is you're going to do, take a few minutes to recognize what we've lost. Write something, draw or paint, pray, listen to music, light a candle. Maybe do a primal scream. I don't know your life. Then, take some time to think about how you want to enter the second half of the dumpster fire year of 2020. 

Maybe if we all take a little time to do these two things we can refocus what it actually means to celebrate the birth of American independence. We can recommit to what it means to be revolutionary. This country was formed by revolutionary acts and thinking. We have the responsibility to be revolutionary again, in the way we act and vote, and in the way we treat one another with respect, dignity and kindness, rather than with hate and division. 

Stay safe. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Be nice to one another. Vote. Black Lives Matter.

Lazy Movie Weekend: Comfort Movies

I never thought that I'd feel the way I feel about January about the month of June. June is my birth month, peonies are in bloom, and a hint of summer is in the air. If we lived in a normal world, June would be the absolute best. But seriously, it seems like June is going on forever. Every day some other terrible thing happens and just when you think people can't get worse, they do. It's overwhelming and depressing. I try not to get caught in the dumpster fire that is Twitter, but I follow a lot of political figures, activists, and regular humans who comment and I can't look away. It's not healthy; I know, but I can't help myself.

It's in times like these that I find myself turning to my old standby to make myself feel better: I watch funny movies and shows that make me feel better. I like to call these movies "comfort movies." A comfort movie (or show) is like mac and cheese or warm brownies; they make you feel loved and cared for no how you really feel.

I encourage you to enjoy some mac and cheese or brownies while watching my Comfort Movie Marathon. You'll thank me for this later.

1. To Wong Foo,Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995) Admittedly, I could write an entire post about this movie, but I feel strongly that it should be included here first. This movie has everything: drag queens, Robin Williams, small towns, strawberries, Chris Penn at his Chris Penniest, RuPaul. In 1995, a movie starring Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes, and John Leguizamo as drag queens seemed revolutionary and odd, but in a great way. I will watch this movie anytime it's on and laugh as much as I did the first time. Swayze and Snipes play Vida and Noxxema, two queens on their way to a national drag competition in Los Angeles. They take Leguizamo's Chi-Chi, a less experienced queen, under their wings. On the drive to L.A., they come up with the four rules to becoming a drag queen, look flawless even with the top down, and change the lives of an entire town. There are some wonderful moments and also some problematic things (particularly the racist language toward Chi-Chi and the gay man savior plot line), but all in all, it's a fun movie. Blink and you'll miss Lady Bunny. 
2. Waitress (2007) I saw the musical version of this charming movie back in May and have been thinking about the movie ever since. If you haven't seen Adrienne Shelly's quirky comedy, stop what you're doing right now and watch it. Shelly was an indie movie staple in the late 90s and early 2000s; Waitress was her final film (she was murdered during the film's production) and she wrote the script while pregnant with her daughter, Sophie. The film centers on Jenna, a small town waitress and baker with a terrible husband, who finds out she's pregnant. She spends much of the movie making up pies and writing letters to her unborn baby. She's less than thrilled about becoming a mom. Even if you've never had a baby or a bad husband, there's something so relatable about Jenna and her situation. Shelly plays Dawn, another waitress, who almost steals the movie from Keri Russell (post-Felicity). Andy Griffith plays Old Joe and Nathan Fillion is Jenna's doctor. 
3. Under the Tuscan Sun (2003) Diane Lane stars as Frances Mayes in the movie adaptation of Mayes' memoir. After a horrible divorce, Frances goes to Italy at the encouragement of her best friend (the wonderful Sandra Oh) and ends up buying a villa in Tuscany. You know, as one does. She sets about renovating the villa with the help of a rag tag group of Polish workers, learns about olives from her neighbor, helps two star-crossed lovers find happiness, buys a white dress, and creates a family for herself in Tuscany. One of my favorite characters is Katherine, an aging actress who evokes the elegance and beauty of 1960s Italian cinema and inspires Frances to live her life. I'm not usually a fan of the whole "woman makes over her life in another country" genre (I'm looking at you Eat, Pray, Love), but I can't help loving this movie.
4. Shaun of the Dead (2004) The first of the Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy movies, Shaun of the Dead is one of my favorite zombie comedies. It has the creepiness and gore of a traditional zombie movie, paired with the humor of every British comedy I love. This is the movie that gave the world Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, and Edgar Wright. Pegg plays Shaun, a lovable loser, who has to save his sort of ex-girlfriend, his mum, and his friends when a zombie plague hits London. One of my favorite parts of the movie is the fight sequence set to Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now." It's genius. The whole Cornetto Trilogy is worth watching over and over, but Shaun of the Dead will always be my favorite. 
5. GLOW (2017) Season two of the Netflix series just dropped this week, so I haven't had a chance to watch it yet. I loved the first season and the documentary about the actual Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling show. It's funny, empowering, and has just enough nostalgia. Come for Alison Brie, stay for Marc Maron. My plan is to binge watch season two this week. The neon is calling.
6. Thor: Ragnorak (2017) I'm a big Thor fan. The Thor movies are my favorite standalone Marvel Universe movies. The first movie of the three is the best one, even if Natalie Portman is the worst. Dark World isn't as terrible as everyone makes it out to be; the Viking funeral is one of the most beautiful scenes and scores in all of the Marvel movies combined. Anyway, Thor: Ragnorak is like living in a 1980s arcade game; it's bright and loud and super fun. The movie was directed by Taika Waititi, the genius behind What They Do in the Shadows. In addition to Thor and Loki, we get a Valkyrie, a bizarre Jeff Goldblum, and the return of the Hulk. Oh, and Hela arrives and destroys everything, as she does. This movie is a set up for Avengers: Infinity War, but what movie in the MCU isn't these days?
7. Queer Eye (2017) If you didn't watch the original Bravo show back in the day, get yourself over to Netflix and watch the new series (seasons one and two are available now). The premise is the same: five gay men spend a week helping a nominated man (in all but one case) turn his life around. This includes a makeover, life coaching, and home renovation. I liked the original show, but love the reboot. There's an emotional element to the new series that didn't exist as strongly in the first series. This show is doing more to help combat toxic masculinity than I ever imagine it could do. The men the Fab Five help show emotions and open up in a way that's powerful and uplifting. There are moments that are stressful, like in season one when the group is pulled over and it doesn't seemed planned and moments that are hilarious (basically anything involving Jonathan). It's a power show on many levels; one of my favorite episodes focuses on a transgender male, who underwent top surgery six weeks before the Fab Five appear. It's an unexpected episode on many levels. Make sure you have Kleenex handy when you watch the show. 
8. Best Worst Movie (2009) Summer is the time to watch a documentary, right? Best Worst Movie is a documentary about the making of the cult movie Troll 2. Troll 2, like most cult movies, is terrible. The plot centers around a family who moves to the country and becomes the target of vegetarian goblins who want to turn them into plants so the goblins can eat them. I saw Troll 2 when I was 11 or 12 and thought it was hilarious, but terrible. The documentary is directed by Michael Stephenson, who starred in the movie as Joshua, the youngest son and hero of the movie. Despite its cult following, Stephenson was embarrassed by the movie, but came to love it after discovering the rabid fan following the movie has. You don't have to watch Troll 2 in order to watch Best Worst Movie, but I would highly recommend watching them together.
9. Brooklyn (2015) I'm going to admit that I have not read the book this movie is based on, although I do own it. It's currently sitting in one of my stacks of books to read around my apartment. I love the fashion of this movie (it's set in the 1950s) and it's beautifully filmed. Eillis comes to America from Ireland to work in a department store and find a new life. She meets a young man and falls in love. Brooklyn is comfort and love and possibility.
10. Girls Trip (2017) I love this movie so much. I missed it in the theatre when it originally came out, and regret that immensely. It's hilarious and raunchy and fabulous. It's everything wonderful and painful about female friendship. And it takes place in New Orleans! Tiffany Haddish is life in this movie; I don't know how they made it through filming some of her scenes without laughing the whole time. Four college friends reunite during Essence Festival under the guise of a girls trip. Of course, they're all going through things in life and need one another to make it through. Queen Latifah, Jada Pickett-Smith, and Regina Hall round out the group and they are amazing. If you want to laugh out loud a lot, this is the movie for you.

We all need to take a break from the news and being part of the resistance every now and then. Comfort movies (and shows) will always be there for you. Embrace the comfort movies!

Coming soon to the Island: more from the front line of being a good citizen, I attempt to get back into writing at work, and the old lady concert rules come out in full effect. Summer is the greatest!

In a galaxy far, far away...

 We are the spark that will light the fire that'll burn the First Order down.

-Poe Dameron, The Last Jedi

I started working on this blog post before seeing Star Wars: The Last Jedi (which I will refer to as TLJ for the remainder of this post). I was sitting in a Barnes & Noble cafe, waiting for my dad and brother to arrive so we could see the movie. It also happened to be the anniversary of Carrie Fisher's death. I started writing this post, beginning with a few subtle (not really) reminders to people about the year that we are currently living in, and that thankfully, will be over very soon. My dad texted me that they were almost at the theatre, so I closed up my notebook and walked over to meet them. We settled into our seats, ordered beers and popcorn (I love the Alamo Theatre), and settled in for the latest episode of Star Wars.

Seeing Carrie Fisher in her final appearance as General Leia Organa and continuing the journey with Rey made me think very differently about what I wanted to say in my final post of 2017. The additions of Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) and Vice Admiral Holdo (Laura Dern) along with the large number of female fighter pilots and Resistance fighters was overwhelming in a way I did not expect. This is not a feminist review of TLJ as I don't review movies, but it's so hard not to look at this movie in particular without seeing the parallels to where we are right now in the world. As I watched these wonderful female characters grapple with their roles in the Star Wars universe (both on screen and in the press because it's Star Wars and literally everyone has an opinion on everything), I went back to the beginning of the year and back further to our suffragist and feminist foremothers. The resistance, whether in reality or in fiction, is female.

We can see this in so many of the groups who have come to make the activist community what it is - Black Lives Matter was founded by three women, the idea of the Women's March started on Facebook by a woman in Hawaii and was brought to life by an amazing group of women from all walks of life, women have been at the heart of the movement at Standing Rock, and women are finding their voices in the #metoo movement. Time even named "the Silence Breakers" their 2017 people of the year. None of this is news for those of us who have been paying attention and know our history. When I marched back in January, I was not there for myself but for the women who came before me and for the women who will come after me. I was there to honor them and continue to the work that will always need to be done.

I've spent most of this year doing things that I never thought I'd ever have to do: calling members of Congress who do not represent me and asking them to not vote for things that violate basic human standards, arguing with people about why electing an alleged pedophile was a bad idea (and I'm not talking about the 45), listening to dudes tell me that lady Ghostbusters and a female Dr. Who "ruined" their childhoods (spare me), sharing stories of workplace harassment because it finally felt like people were listening, and of course, trying to make sense of the dumpster fire that is the Trump administration. This last one is exhausting because there is nothing logical or normal about any of what the 45 and his minions are doing. Every single one of these activities has done exactly what it needed to do for me: strengthened my political beliefs and my feminist identity.

Feminism is a dirty word for a lot of people. I know I will not change some people's opinions about feminism and feminists, but at the end of the day, I can't help stupid. As I wrote in January, "I believe in affordable, accessible healthcare. I believe women have the right to decide what happens with their bodies. I believe abortion should be legal. I believe Planned Parenthood is an essential part of healthcare options, particularly for women in poverty, for things beyond birth control and abortions. I believe women and girls should not have to fear reporting rape or abuse. I believe men play an important role in feminism. I want the women and girls in my life to know that they can do anything they want. I believe women's rights are human rights. That is why I marched yesterday."

This is feminism for me. It is the belief that women's rights are human rights. That's it; I don't hate men (I rather like most of you and downright love some of you). It's not that men have to lose anything because women are able to access affordable healthcare that is in their best interest, not in the interest of old white dudes who probably haven't seen a vagina in decades, let alone know how one actually works or receive equal pay or not have to walk down the street, fearing the worst. I was pleased to see Merriam-Webster name feminism its word of the year. The designation was based on the frequency of searches as well as the word's place in the larger cultural fabric of the world. I highly recommend following their Twitter account; watching a dictionary troll the President is really satisfying.

Which brings me back to TLJ. Carrie Fisher, our rebel princess and general, was a feminist icon beyond the role of Leia. Leia was not necessarily written as such, but that's what she became. The "boys' fantasy" as she has often been called, came to represent much more to women and girls who watched these movies looking for heroes of their own. Yes, I had a huge crush on both Han Solo and Luke Skywalker (at different stages of my life - Luke is a boy band, Han is a rock band), but Leia was always the reason I returned to these movies over and over again. Seeing Leia as General Organa in episodes VII and VIII, made me even happier. She commanded the Resistance with grace, strength, and wisdom. As I watched TLJ, I thought about this and wondered about all those fanboys and whether Leia ever meant more for them than a hot chick in a gold bikini (which she hated, by the way). I came to the conclusion, by the end of the movie, that some of them became feminists because of Leia even if they don't identify themselves as such. Others will always be those dudes online who can't deal with her or Rey or Holdo. They'll always be there fixating and being derisive because they feel threatened. I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for them to come around; I have more important things to do.

General Leia will always be more than a hot chick in a gold bikini; she is our princess, our general, and our hero. I know I won't get to see her in the next movie, but I can always go back to see her again when I need a reminder about being a badass. I like to think I was channeling her as a "bossy" flower girl (left) and as a marcher (right).

I'm looking forward to 2018. I look forward to continuing the fight and doing what needs to be done so that this country doesn't continue to burn in the dumpster fire that 2017 has been. One of my favorite quotes in TLJ was from Rose, "We're going to win this war not by fighting what we hate, but saving what we love." That is how I intend to live 2018 - focusing on saving what I love.

Happy New Year from the Island! 

If you are going out this weekend to celebrate the end of 2017, please do so responsibly. I'd like you to be around to enjoy 2018 with me.