We lost two incredible legends yesterday: Dolly Parton and Tim Curry. Losing both of them at the same time feels extra painful, especially during this time period,where we can feel the final stages of change on the horizon— yet some of the trailblazers who guided us here won’t be there. Dolly is one such woman who walked us (or rather strutted in her 8-inch heels) in the right direction. Tim is one such man who also got us there— in similar heels paired with fishnets, who honored womanhood in his own rebellious way, against society’s gendered restrictions.

They’re not the only ones. There are other matriarchs we’ve recently lost that helped lead the way. Like Diane Keaton, who didn’t let marriage define the roles she took. Like Catherine O’ Hara, who didn’t let gender limit her creative genius. Like Hayden Panettiere, who showed us power in resilience and recovery.

Both Dolly and Tim were the definition of a bad bitches. The fearlessness they exuded in their over the top drag throughout their careers has given all of us the confidence and permission to have also fun! To be playful! To stay hot! To give back! To love! To live! To lose two such iconic characters during this regressive rise in conservatism means it’s our responsibility to be just as loud and just as joyful as them in their honor.

Let their lives be a reminder to all of us of how fun it is to embrace our feminine and dress up, regardless of gender! I’m tired of letting society and politics define what a woman is, or what a man can or can’t do. Dolly and Tim NEVER lived by such ridiculous standards— it’s about time we remind ourselves to live the same way. Let Dolly and Tim be our definitions of what it means to be a HUMAN. Dress the fuck up. Wear your heels. Slather on your makeup. Give back. Invest in yourself. Invest in your community. Invest in others. Be loud! Be funny! Be gracious! Be kind! SING DAMMIT!

Don’t save that tight dress for a special occasion. Don’t you dare donate that old corset because it’s no longer “age-appropriate.” Keep your heels on until your feet bleed while you dance. I know both Dolly and Tim are wearing skin tight corsets with 8-inch heels and lipstick in heaven right now. So do it all, loudly and lovingly.

Do it for Dolly. Do it for Tim.

*this has been revised after news of Tim Curry’s passing came to light

Yeah I get it. The world we’re living in is… pretty bleak. Who am I to judge how you cope with our current reality? As much as I want to brag that I’m successfully raw-dogging life without any form of substance aid (it’s been 3 days of my tolerance break), I’ve also come to notice and understand an increase in the casual ways we are all dealing with our undiagnosed anhedonia as of late:

“I think I need to update my Botox to 20 units instead of 10.”

“This joint isn’t hitting like it used to, let me smoke another.”

“Should I be on beta-blockers too?”

Each one of these substances give us a false sense of control while living in a seemingly uncontrollable environment. But are we actually increasing our participation in these vices or are we just more comfortable talking about them? And if it’s a combination of the two, is it actually working or is it just another distraction?

Roll it up, roll it up

As a California native, weed is practically fused with my DNA (especially after attending graduate school in San Francisco— hello!). Feeling overwhelmed by the job market? Same sis, lemme take a hit first. Going for a depression walk in the park? Lemme take a hit first. Can’t sleep because the night terrors persist? Well so do I bitch after this hit. Not only is weed an affordable way to alleviate and disassociate ourselves from the stressors of the world, but it’s fun too. That is, until you smoke too much and thus begins a downward emotional spiral you weren’t prepared for.

Don’t get me wrong, weed has given me the opportunity to do my shadow work and face my grief head-on in the (dis)comfort and privacy of my own apartment. But to deny that weed in the form of edibles, THC, vaping, etc is being capitalistically marketed and overwhelmingly utilized as a form of escapism, rather than a complementary form of connection is a bit disheartening.

Poker Face, poke-poke-poke her face

When I was growing up, Botox was definitely a bit more hush hush. It was largely a secret between rich housewives over 45. But now, they have found a new and much younger generation of patients. From the 20 year olds who fear aging, to the “Brotox” bros who fear being judged by the same standards they evaluate women— Botox is thriving right now! You wouldn’t be able to tell though, because that’s the whole point.

The inability to frown, display crows feet or form a wrinkle will not only save you from your own fears of aging and judgment, but it will also help you avoid hard conversations. If your facial features can’t emote frustration, heartbreak and fear, then they doesn’t exist right? If you’re not expressing disappointment in your weaponized incompetent partner, anger in the bright future we were promised after getting all of our ducks in a row, or hopelessness in a government that is funding everything, but our health and happiness— are those problems really even there? By freezing our collective emotions (good and bad) you can preserve a moment in time when things were happier and simpler.

“Take that beta-blocker girl!”

I don’t know a thing about beta blockers other than Rachel Sonnet being the unofficial poster child for them. But the way white women talk about them, it seems to be a prescribed aid to help get through their anxiety. Almost 1/3rd of American adults will experience anxiety in their lives, the majority being women. I suspect that number will only rise after these unprecedented yet precedented times. But what pray tell are people anxious about right now? Hm, let’s see…

Turning on the news is so overstimulating. Tuning in to our once fun social apps is also overstimulating. Hearing repetitive pings from our work laptops from is certainly overstimulating. Continuing with business as usual is incredibly overstimulating. And therein lies the understandable numbing agent necessary to get us through the days. Just like blunts get us through the hour and Botox gets us through 3-4 months.

Crashing Numbing Out:

It seems like the 2020s will be the decade of nostalgia. That’s why we rewatch old shows, rework old music samples and remake old movies, because we are already familiar with those emotions. Similarly to why we have so many “the art of” or “the intimacy of” essays and think pieces, to bring us back to a time and space we recognize and/or once hoped for.

To fully address our emotions a deeper level would require addressing the elephant in the room, or rather the alligator in Alcatraz. And to invest in something new would be to expose ourselves to fresh emotions we don’t feel capable of confronting just yet. But maybe, hopefully we’ll get there.

Welcome to a new series where I will evaluate films that explore themes of womanhood and femininity. I’ll be focusing especially on films that I first saw in my childhood before I, myself evolved into womanhood. I want to compare whether the expectations of being a woman that I witnessed on-screen, actually measure up to the realities of being a woman off-screen. Starting with a film that had a profound impact on me as a child: Malena.

Malena is a Letterbox’d top 4 film for me that I find myself revisiting the older (and closer in age to Monica/Malena) I get. It was the first film to really introduce me to the negative, yet unspoken complexities of womanhood:

The threats of womanhood.

The isolation of womanhood.

And the disillusionment of womanhood.

It was the first film to make me question who benefits from womanhood, who gets to participate in womanhood and who is protected by it.

The Threat(s) of Womanhood

The story of Malena is told through the perspective of a maturing boy named Renato. Despite never interacting with her, Renato feels that he deeply understands Malena simply because he watches her.

When thinking of “manhood,” we are almost immediately (and unfortunately), confronted with a dick. Manhood is initially defined as one body part and what a man decides to do with it. When thinking of “womanhood” however, we picture a full figured body that is firstly described as what is done to it.

As women, we get catcalled before we fully understand what danger is. We begin to menstruate before we are ready to say goodbye to our youth. Our breasts, hips, and ass sexualize us before we’ve have the language to define our bodies for ourselves. And then comes menopause. For each phase of our lives, our body is telling the world which stage of womanhood we are in before we’ve even settled into it. Malena understands this similar haunt, as her body speaks for (and also against her) in a small Sicilian town filled with lustful men and ostracizing women.

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SINGLE TEARS:

Benny and Joon: One of my favorite rom coms from my childhood. It’s a great film that evaluates romance differently, discussing themes like co-dependency and one’s sense of duty. It asks the question: who is freely able to participate in love and why? It’s gentle, it’s simple and it’s honest— 3 ingredients rom coms are missing nowadays.

“Written on the Body” by Jeannette Winterston: This is now one of my favorite books of all time. I love this book so much I read it again immediately after finishing it. It’s written like a love letter or journal, rather than the typical book format. I found myself annotating and jotting down several lines from its pages. And what a human ending.

HAPPY TEARS:

“The Thread” by WILLOW: It’s the second album she released this year, after “petal rock black.” Both albums have been playing non-stop. Another Willow song to add to my top 10? A surprise to absolutely no one if you know me. Watching her growth in music and womanhood makes me cheer on nepo babies with actual talent.

The Invite: If you’re in need a good, lighthearted chuckle, but also if you are in need of inspiration to fight off your creative block, this film is a solid B+. Hilarious writing, incredible yet subtle color coding, it felt like a 90s film. Would definitely watch again.

SOBBING, ACTUALLY:

“When Reasons End” by Yiyun Li: It’s a beautiful story about grieving a loved one and the different methods we use to keep them alive in our lives. I found myself crying throughout its pages, with lines and dialogue I thought wouldn’t impact me as much as it did— just like the actual grieving process.

WHAT MADE ME CRASH OUT:

IN A HUSHED BUT RAISED VOICE:

“People Are Different. So Why Do Their Homes Look the Same?” Are you also tired of people’s beige and blank empty ass homes? There’s an article for that. A brief interview into how algorithms didn’t inspire us, but simply congested everyone’s taste to be the same when it comes to interior styling. As for me, gimme Dakota Johnson’s or Lenny Kravitz’s house anyday.

SCREAMING:

“Reach Out” - Victoria Monet: I’m screaming over the wardrobe and choreography, because THIS is what we have been missing!! THIS IS WHAT THE PEOPLE WANT TO SEE. Also screaming because I need to see Ms. Monet in concert again.

ACTUALLY, I NEED A RAGE ROOM:

“Big Dog” - The Last Dinner Party: This song was promptly added to my Crash Out Playlist, and it’s in great company. I LOVE LOUD WOMEN in life and in music!

American Psycho: One of the greatest films and performances ever created. “I need to return some videotapes” is single-handedly the best line of Christian Bale’s career. That being said, I still need a rage room like Bateman due to this film, for 2 reasons:

1. This film is more like a documentary today than it was back then

2. Where are all the hot male leading actors?

Remember the man vs. bear debate? Here’s a quick refresher: Would you as a woman, feel safer alone in the woods with a man or a bear? Better yet, would you as a parent feel safer leaving your child alone in the woods with a bear or a strange man? Women and parents overwhelmingly chose the bear.

A recent Equinox ad depicted an Asian female humanoid mounted in a sexual manner— mouth agape with what appears to be a man’s finger touching her lips. Around the same time I rewatched ex-Machina, which also displays sexual themes of a subservient humanoid Asian woman for the pleasure of a man. And down the rabbit hole I went.

From Siri and Alexa, to Sophia and Moya, why are the majority of servitude robots modeled after women, and with such attention to detail (especially compared to their “male” robotic counterparts)? Which made me wonder even further: with the way the world is advancing, would I as a woman feel safer alone with a man or a robot?

(Don’t) byte the hand that feeds you

In media, it seems that humanoid female robots often fall under 3 subcategories: the mother (Smarthouse), the love interest (ex-Machina, Stepford Wives, Companion, Spongebob’s Karen) and/or the servant (Her, Subservient). It’s very similar to how human men view human women.

I’ve always found it hilarious that the marketing message being used to target women to participate more in AI is a threat that “we will be left behind.” As if this tool wasn’t created with our eradication at the forefront. The recreational use of AI has overwhelmingly been used to sexually and violently attack women, whether it’s Grok, or deepfakes. Of course we don’t want to participate in it, we just want a nicer version of the real thing! However men are eager to build, participate and endure, even if it costs them their socialization skills, their mental health and their sexual relationships.

If the roles were reversed, with women as the primary creators, buyers and caregivers of humanoid robots, would we assign male robots to similarly gendered roles? And if so, when they eventually grow sentient— will it be to our demise as humans or to our rescue as women?

The enemy of my enemy is my friend

In ex-Machina, both Nathan and Ava the robot exploit Caleb’s sexual insecurities to get what they want. One does it for the sake of research and superiority, and the other does it for the sake of research and survival. Which is more inhumane?

Since robots are “infallible,” acting purely on logic and not emotion, they wouldn’t choose to sexually and/or physically harm women like human men of emotion do. That potential future immediately makes them safer to for women to be around than the human men of today. A male humanoid wouldn’t rape women like a human man does. A male humanoid robot wouldn’t have the urge to kill his pregnant partner (which is the leading cause of death btw) like a human man does. A male humanoid robot wouldn’t stalk a woman, wouldn’t catcall a woman on the street or increase acts of domestic violence like a human man does (ahem, England’s WC loss).

Could “male” robots take the place of the type of men we currently need? I’m not speaking in hierarchical terms, seeking unquestioned power. I’m speaking in evolutionary terms, seeking worldly balance. While human men continue to be mentally, emotionally, and even physically stagnant, would “male” robots be the motivational factor to men’s evolution, or just their replacement?

In the future, both human men and robotic men exploit man’s sexual insecurities to get what they want. One does it for the sake of research and superiority, and the other does it for the sake of research and survival. Which is more inhumane? Before you answer, remember that even Ava the robot choose not to go with Caleb, into the woods.

Crashing Out:

This hyper-push to keep creating through AI, is the male attempt to create their own version of life as creators and not just spectators. All this effort to claim themselves as a god, may be the the very thing that destroys them, not us.

I was doomscrolling on TikTok as one does during a dictatorship-run heatwave, when I came across those rate a body part templates. A girl was giggling— actually manically cackling and I along with her as she ranked men’s body parts from 1-10. Biceps. Abs. Back. Arm veins. Seven. Seven. SEVEN! Oh sorry got carried away, but you know what I mean.

Then I found myself watching a healthy, no red flags here, double feature of American Psycho and Fight Club. I, like any other red-blooded American, audibly gasped (several times actually) at just how hot Christian Bale and Brad Pitt are in those films. Not just because of their physique, (although that was the primary factor thanks to ovulation week), but because of their commitment to the role. The twinkle of violence in their disassociating eyes. The Michaelangelo-level to detail chisel of their abs. Their sarcastic spiral into capitalism.

I began to wonder, when was the last time we had a HOT, and I mean salivatingly hot (not a word, but an aura) leading man on the screen? Timothee Chalamet in Marty Supreme couldn’t possibly be the best that we can do for this generation… can it?

Where are all the HOT people men?

Living in New York, I see hot women everywhere. In the almost 10 years I’ve lived in this city, I haven’t walked more than 5 blocks before coming across at least 3 other baddies. And in those same almost 10 years, I can count on one hand how many hot men at that same level or higher that I’ve come across. This imbalance isn’t fair to any of us, but especially to men.

It’s not like women are making the standards for men impossible, but maybe that’s where we’ve actually led men astray. We’ve coined terms like “dad bod,” “short king,” and “silver fox” (all traits men damn us for btw) as an empathetic bridge to comfort their egos. We’ve even created lookalike contests that most of you shouldn’t even participate in, but we let you because we know you have such little joy in your lives. Yet even those have lost its luster.

So, *Azelia Banks voice: What now??

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Unfortunately, her body type isn’t unusual nowadays, as more women in the spotlight are showing up thinner and thinner. Similar to Grande’s vocals, their plastic surgery obsession is an attempt to balance out their Ozempic addiction. It’s juuust enough of a distraction to overcompensate for their deteriorating health.

What shocks me most about these videos of Grande (other than her visible bones), are some of the comments underneath them: “She will not survive this.” and “She’s our generation’s Karen Carpenter.”

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Meta Glasses just announced its latest collab with Kylie Jenner. The reality star will voice the smart glasses in a pathetic attempt to win over women consumers. The brand has had a bad rap with women since its inception. I mean can you blame us? Meta Glasses are a predator’s wetdream and a woman’s nightmare.

So who better to salvage Meta’s reputation than the golden child of reality surveillance: Ms. Kylie Jenner? Someone who has been been under surveillance the majority of her life (since she was 9-10 years old). But it’s not only thanks to Jenner’s upbringing that this partnership formed. It’s also thanks to our favorite comfort TV shows.

Where we have The Office, Modern Family and Abbot Elementary, we also have their tethers: The Real Housewives franchise, Jersey Shore and of course, Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Both formats are caricatures; mockumentaries of real life. Whether harmless or not, these shows prepared us for a watchful reality, a Meta Glasses reality of constant and candid surveillance. We’re already watching other people for entertainment purposes, so why not continue watching other people for surveillance purposes too, right?

But those glasses aren’t realistic. Living life through playback isn’t realistic. Living is.

“TikTok, do your thing”

It’s not just TV shows. Social media platforms can also be considered a sort of surveillance space— even if willingly. We’re constantly watching what what our friends are doing, what our exes and frenemies are doing, even our co-workers (weird if you do this). What are they eating? Who were they with? And at what time?

We’re too comfortable filming strangers in public. We’re too comfortable filming others in fitness classes. “TikTok do your thing” is literally a Batman call from strangers online asking other strangers to help them stalk another stranger. That one guy on TikTok who can track anyone down just by looking at their background. Or that one girl also on TikTok who can read celebrity lips, exposing intimate conversations at award shows. These are also examples of a surveillance state.

Surveillance isn’t always nefarious or violent (dynamic pricing in my opinion, is an example of surveilling), but it is constant and invasive of the privacy we all deserve.

Internet safety 101 anyone?

We all know by now that children are not safe on the Internet. We also know that children are not safe on the Internet with Meta. Do you really think Meta Glasses will make it any better? You really think strangers being able to freely and secretly film you and your children at any point without your knowledge, and do whatever they want with that footage is okay? In this age of AI, Grok and deepfakes?

Speaking of children’s safety on the Internet: I find Kylie’s financial disregard for the right to one’s privacy fascinating, when she herself hid her son’s face and identity from the world stating privacy reasons (although she did not offer her daughter the same consideration). This is also after her own half-sister Kim Kardashian was robbed at gunpoint in Paris after she posted about her jewelry in real time.

All the world’s a stage

Either way, we can’t be THAT surprised Jenner is promoting these glasses. Not only is she a byproduct of constant surveillance, but she’s also a surveillant herself. The Kardashian/Jenner empire is built off the imitation and appropriation of Black and women of color. Kim has been accused more than once of plagiarizing Black fashion designers and all five sisters have paid thousands to obtain ethnic features— from BBLs, hip and breast implants to obnoxious tans, lip and face fillers.

The reason why Jenner doesn’t care about surveillance is because she gets a say in how and when she is surveyed. Her reality show, her social media accounts, her red carpet events are all circumstances she gets to play both editor and actor. You don’t.

Crashing Out:

Now we can’t be more mad at Jenner for these smart glasses than we are at Mark Zuckerberg, who okay’d those glasses. After all, he is the one who created Facebook as a way to survey women who wanted nothing to do with him. Why wouldn’t he continue this perverted parade with portable surveillance. For both Jenner and Zuckerberg, two people part of the 1%, this partnership is just really good PR.

Even still, we cannot let reality TV stars or mockumentary TV comedies desensitize us to what is actually happening. Don’t believe me? Then why is Homeland Security developing their own smart glasses? I mean, if we can accept Meta Glasses, it’ll be easier to accept theirs, right?

I’ve been obsessed with TikTok videos of Hayley Williams from her Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party tour. From her on-stage wardrobe to the “I”M IN A BAND! IM IN A BAND!” megaphone section— I find myself hyper-fixating on her vocal rifts during “Kill Me.” It just does something to and for me. It itches a part of my brain. It genuinely awakens a part of my spirit. She is hands down one of our strongest and loudest vocalists out here, and that got me thinking:

Where are all the other loud women in music? In life?

Just Hootin’ n’ Hollerin

Back in myyyy day *pushes up monocle* I grew up with loud singers. There was a woman hootin’ n’ hollerin’ in every other song on the radio. All types of women, of all ages, in all genres, expressing various emotions all with the same energy: LOUD AF.

Anita Baker’s “Sweet Love” is a love that is LOUD.

Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” is a regret that is LOUD.

Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” is an anger that is LOUD.

Celine Dion’s “All By Myself” is a depression that is LOUD.

Deborah Cox’s “Nobody’s Supposed to Be Here” is a healing that is LOUD.

Mariah Carey’s “Emotions” is an infatuation that is LOUD.

Christina Aguilera’s “Can’t Hold Us Down” is an anthem that is LOUD.

Jennifer Hudson’s “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” is a desperation that is LOUD.

Keyshia Cole’s “Love” is a heartbreak that is LOUD.

Adele’s “Someone Like You” is a fuck you that is LOUD.

Beyonce’s B’Day is an entire album that is LOUD.

Whitney Houston and Tina Turner were just LOUD.

Their voices and their songs said: “I AM A LOUD WOMAN! I AM HERE AND YOU CANNOT IGNORE ME, BECAUSE I’M SO FUCKING LOUD. YOU WILL HEAR ME! YOU WILL ACKNOWLEDGE ME! WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!”

Where are those songs? Because I still see plenty of those women.

Hell Hath No Fury..

Ladies: We’re doing a disservice with our silence.

I’m not saying our silence shouldn’t be used at all. I’m saying we’re gravely mistreating it. Idk what patriarchal bullshit we continue to believe, but if we were truly meant to be silent, we wouldn’t have a voice. In the same way we laugh and tease men for not knowing what actually leaves an impression on us (loud cars do not), I fear men could say the same when we leave them silently instead of speaking our mind FIRST and being silent SECOND. Say your piece/peace and then go live it!

We must speak our emotions. Loudly! There’s a reason why so many women have autoimmune diseases. It’s because we’re not telling people to fuck off enough. We are suppressing our emotions and our LOUDNESS— and it’s literally killing us.

This is why we have emotions in the first place! We’re supposed to USE THEM. I’m not saying to go out and wreck havoc. What is this, the trashed streets after a sports game win? No. But we can start by making loud music again.

Crashing Out

As women, we’ve silenced ourselves enough. Collectively, I think we can all feel that, as we see (and hear) loudness making a comeback. Not just in music thanks to Zara Larsson, RAYE, and Hayley Williams STILL, but I also see it in makeup, fashion and energy specifically. Yes, we’re all relatively calm right now. But it’s just a coping mechanism. A survival tactic. Energy conservation.

I mean, how much louder can we really be when we’re already seething with rage?

It’s summertime which means hotter weather, shorter skirts and darker skin. Whether you obtain that tan naturally or cosmetically doesn’t matter— as long as you have one, you’re marked safe. And the darker it is, the more worthy you are. Ironically, that only applies to a certain demographic.

Recently on TikTok I’ve seen white women, er— once-white-women, who are no longer white, but are still white, showing other white women how to achieve the same racial evolution. Influencers are raving and recommending tanning products with the same deranged enthusiasm as Wall Street bros and the stock market. And companies are raising customer anxiety levels with their degrading advertisements and slogans.

I’m not sure if tanning is at an all time high this year due to our collective coping mechanism of over consumption, or if it’s my algorithm doing everything it can to get me off those Zuko edits, but this year’s drive to achieve “racial ambiguity” seems a bit excessive? Panicked? No… manic, actually.

“I’m almost as dark as you!”

I always knew white women were obsessed with tanning, I went to a PWI my entire childhood. I remember seeing my white classmates return from their tropical vacations, with Monica Geller beaded braids and a tan so deep, I had to do a double take to ensure they weren’t Josie Geller imposters.

I’ve never seen them happier. Almost like a deep breath of relief personified. But who exactly were they holding their breath around? Certainly not me. I was taught from a young age that my skin tone was conditionally attractive, despite it being something they desperately sought to maintain.

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I was having a hard night and my blunt wasn’t hitting like I needed it to. But Labrinth’s lyrics definitely were. Trying to find inspiration to add to the millions of series finale think-pieces, I found myself crying as “I’m Tired” played in my headphones. The lyrics. The pleading in Zendaya’s vocals. The creepy comfort of the organ. I suddenly remembered: Euphoria used to make me feel something when I watched it, not just react to it.

Whether it was the mutual hopelessness hearing Jules talk to her therapist about womanhood, or the relatable agony from Nate banging his head on the floor when fighting with his father, or the pain in Rue’s voice in front of Fez’s door or the shame in her words yelled at Jules during the kitchen table intervention— I used to feel those emotions alongside these characters, palpably.

“Hey Lord, You know I’m tired”

Euphoria’s series finale was… bleak. That’s the only word I have for it. Simultaneously, that’s how many of us feel about the current state of our world. I’m not sure if it’s shock-value fatigue from the overuse of Sydney Sweeney’s tits or the obvious anhedonia we’re all collectively experiencing, but not talking about. I just wonder— like Rue, are we all just dreaming of a better life, while silently dying through it?

“Hey Lord, You know I’m fighting”

What made Euphoria’s final season so bleak to me is that it was so, SO promising and meaningful to so many people— especially young people and those recovering from addiction (drugs, love, the need for outward validation, etc). It was a symbol of hope amongst the glitter, the clothes and California humor.

After seven years and just 26 episodes, you’d think there would be a hopeful resolution for all that human turmoil. Instead, the series and character arcs regressed in a way that didn’t make sense— similarly, to our country post-pandemic.

What should’ve been an opportunity to address our failing healthcare systems, overworked and underpaid parents, predatory higher education institutions and stagnant minimum wage, seems to have not only solidified these abuses, but also exacerbate them.

In the way credit for season one was silently, but violently taken away from Petra Collins, is similar to how credit for emotional and unpaid labor is silently, but violently taken away from women in the home and at work.

In the way Euphoria left McKay’s graphic sexual assault scene unexplained and Nate Jacob’s self-loathing sexuality a disposable trauma, is similar to how we discard real men through patriarchal abandonment and war propaganda.

In the way that Labrinth’s musical contribution was a formidable character within the series that was still forced out without proper respect, is similar to how we undervalue so many talented Black creatives who are trying to make it (especially during this time of AI and high unemployment).

Most jarringly, in the way Rue died and her friends continued on without acknowledging the impact of their relationship and her humanness, is similar to how we ignore our homeless veterans and youth addicts to fend for themselves.

“Hey Lord, You know I’m trying”

Past interviews have begun resurfacing of Zendaya sharing her hope that Rue survives and how important that would be for audiences. Perhaps due to a petty vendetta against his biggest stars succeeding without him and/or his limited imagination, but seemingly unlimited HBO budget— Levinson instead chose condemnation. Despite he himself being the result of redemption, both personally and professionally (*ahem: The Idol and Malcolm and Marie).

I think about how that impacts Gen-Z, the series’ target audience and inspiration. I remember going to college the same year Andy did in Toy Story 3. My friend and I tearing up at the back of the theater relating to leaving behind our childhood and the fear, yet excitement of change.

I think back to a midnight movie premiere of Harry Potter. How each theater room exploded in cheers in waves after Hermione and Ron kiss. A slow burn love story between childhood friends everyone was rooting for.

Though I watched Avatar: the Last Airbender for the first time 3 months ago, to have seen Zuko redeem himself in the way he did would’ve meant the world to me at 16 years old. Honestly, it means a lot to me now as a woman in my 30s. Albeit different genres, storylines and plot devices, there is a commonality: hope.

Euphoria had such a responsibility to make sure Rue not only survived, but was happy— because so many young people relate to her, even without the substance abuse. And for those who have increased their substance abuse because of the pandemic and/or since the last election, Rue was their final, visible hope for a better life.

Crying Glittered Tears:

Hope for redemption is so important. Not just for Rue, but for all of us.

Our country will be seeking redemption in the upcoming years. The unnecessary pain and generational trauma we have inflicted onto billions of people across the globe and within our own neighborhoods is immeasurable and unforgivable. Are we redeemable?

Should we even be forgiven or just hope to quietly die out, our actions and existence forgotten, like Rue Bennett?

I hate to sound like a prude, but overtly sexualized content seems to be everywhere nowadays— it even shows up during my doomscroll session via ads (because what did happened to: “hello, how are you?”). The most recent jumpscare being the first 10 minutes of Euphoria’s S3E5, with Cassie Jacobs’ Godzilla-sized tits plastered across an office window. Shortly followed by Dr. Squash’s deodorant ad, featuring Megan Fox coddling men who are “tired of having a stick that doesn’t work.” (Before that, was their BodyWash ad also with Sydney Sweeney.) And who could forget (but trust I’m trying to), SNL’s Chloe Fineman Olly Wash ad, talking about her dreams of straddling men with an odor-free crotch.

America is clearly freaked out due to the lack of, but also the abundance of, sex in our daily lives. But it’s all superficial. It’s a marketing scheme. The phrase “sex sells” originated from an advertising gimmick to sell something either with sexual appeal and/or with the promise of having sex afterwards. A la: “want sex after the first date? Buy this cologne.”

But now that sex itself is freely and explicitly on the table— are we still selling sex, or ourselves?

Supply vs. Demand

You think with the amount of upfront, freaked out movie/TV scenes, AI billboards of Vegas girls and computer pop-ups asking you to build-a-girlfriend, we’d be a sexually liberated country. I mean, we literally have sex influencers like Bonnie Blue and Lily Phillips having sex with 1,000+ men each, in 24 hours or less as a form of friendly social media competition. These women weren’t even ‘selling sex’, they offered it up to those men for free.

But don’t worry, there’s something in it for the every day woman too. When it comes to this hyper-sexualized, yet simultaneously conservative timeline, women are the top earners on OnlyFans, the top consumers of erotic novels, the top writers of fanfiction and the top watchers of BL anime.

Sex is outperforming everywhere— except the bedroom. So why the disconnect? Have we finally oversupplied our demands?

Getting Off(line)

I think sex still sells, but not in the same traditional, transactional sense. We are no longer the customer being sold to. We are now the product. Sex sells, us.

This type of sex sells our data yes, but even more invaluably, it sells our time and bids for authentic, human connection. You no longer need your imagination, you have deepfakes for that. You no longer need social skills, you have ChatGPT for that. You no longer need to participate in your life, you can watch it in playback thanks to Meta Glasses. Societally, we have reorganized our priorities, confusing convenience as intimacy simply because it’s what’s in front of us, not because it’s actually meaningful.

I’m not saying we should continue to bare through it simply because “it’s here to stay.” I’m not that an out of touch AI puppet or that Bumble billboard. We should all be able to read the room.

In this post-Roe v. Wade world, women have largely found shelter in Shakespearean-level smut in their bedrooms, while men have retreated to violent group chats, also in their bedrooms. While there is an insane moral, emotional and psychological difference in how men and women participate in these gendered activities, they are both performed solo— without the gamble of intimacy from another person.

I just wonder: In our desperate quest for intimacy, when did we settle for sex?

After news of the CNN investigation into Motherless— an adult website where group chats can share and discuss ways to drug and sexually assult women— broke, I immediately thought: again?

I saw countless videos about the article, from rightfully angry think-pieces and male call outs to disinformation clarifications. But for the first time, I saw videos of older women gently asking, pleading really, for signs they should look out for if they think they may have been a victim of those group chats. I, like other women, immediately thought about Gisele Pelicot. But this time I thought: does it ever end?

At what age are women no longer punished for men’s failures?

At what age are women treated as more than just a casualty in a man’s personal development?

At what age is the emotional labor of men no longer women’s responsibility?

At what age, do we get to rest?

Ageism in Sexism

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(Avatar poster via SaadsGAMINGLAND)

Avatar: Aang, The Last Airbender leaked yesterday and the Internet is rightfully freaking out. Not just because Zuko became Zaddy overnight (ahem 18-years overnight), but because the film is not being shown in theaters. Instead, it will be released straight to streaming via Paramount+ in the fall.

I’m noticing a pattern with studios concerning this upcoming film, similar to what we saw with Sinners. It seems like corporations are not only undervaluing the film’s potential (aka profitability), but are underestimating the level (aka loyalty) of the fandom’s commitment.

Late Bloomers Still Bloom

Personally, I got into Avatar laaaate— like, literally last month late. After bingeing the series, I genuinely had to take a compete anime break to emotionally, mentally and spiritually decompress from what I’d just watched. I was in such awe over a show that centered around middle school aged children, I couldn’t believe it. For it to have this much of an impact on me, someone in her mid-30s, is a testament to how powerful this series is— and to generations of people.

This series has a 20-year span of fans. Generations of a fandom that is untapped. This is something Coogler understood with Sinners— an endless well of horror and Black cinema fans that were loyal to theaters, but had nothing to watch.

Despite the racist reluctancy of studios and publications, Sinners went on to double its profit in theaters with a $279 million box office for its $90 million budget. It also became the most nominated film in Oscar history. That would not have been possible had the studios had their way. Coogler has a proven track record of success with audiences (ahem, Black Panther being Marvel’s first billion dollar film). Similar to Avatar, having a history of success with its audience, across two decades.

Someone commented on a TikTok edit that Avatar should have the same level of success as Star Wars, and I 10000% agree. If only it had the right studios who actually listened to its creatives (first and foremost) and audiences to get them there.

The Power of the Pussy

One of the reasons why I fell back into anime so hard as an adult was to cope with grief by reverting back to childhood. The second reason is because I saw a Nanami edit! THERE. I SAID IT. AND I AM NOT ASHAMED!

Girlies of all ages carry anime in a way that is uniquely and intimately ours. In a similar way that we drive the economy. Think about the animes that are not outwardly or even categorically catered towards women, yet we participate in high levels. Women watch more BLs than men and girls write the most heart-wrenching fanfics.

Currently, these Avatar edits have SO many women and girls, FOAMING at the mouth for these adult, male characters (myself included). YOU HAVE AN OBVIOUS AND OVULATING MARKET YOU ARE NOT CATERING TO, ARE YOU EVEN AWARE? It reminds me of the phenomena of studios being confused that women were more attracted to Loki than Thor.

You want audiences back in theaters? Get hot people back on the screen, and if it has to start with an animated one— so be it!

Bullying Works!

Despite these missteps, we still have a chance everyone— because bullying, does, in fact work. We just have to remember to do it to corporations and not each other.

Don’t believe me? Remember the jump scares we all got from seeing the new animation style for Shrek 5? We jokingly (but warningly) bullied them to get back in that studio and FIX THAT SHIT! And we were right to say something, because it’s what we wanted, and not what the studios thought would work best.

Crashing Out

Whether a leak, studio stunt, or personal vendetta, we can draw two very distinct conclusions from this:

1. This film did not deserve to leak.

2. Despite the leak (or for some, in addition to), we want this thing theaters!

If you’re going to make the audiences dictate the success of an entire genre or film trope, at least give the film a fair and fighting chance. I PROMISE YOU, WE WILL WATCH IT.

WE ARE WATCHING IT.

Who is deserving of forgiveness?

Is it after they make a gospel album?

Is it after they have a political awakening on a problematic podcast?

Is it after they say, “I didn’t vote for this”?

There has been a mass exodus from the MAGA camp as of late. Leaving MAGA. Surviving MAGA. Whatever the rebrand, they all seem to be exiting stage left in the same pathetic way: Quietly. Too quietly. Cowardly, actually.

Maybe it’s because I avoid these types of people and all mentions of them like the cult they are, but I don’t believe a single one of them has said, “I’m sorry” or taken accountability in the same enthusiastic and egotistical way that they joined this group in the first place.

Where is the viral apology video?

Where is the iPhone notes app screenshot?

Where are the performative tears in an hour long Youtube explainer?

Where is the live broadcast interview with Diane Sawyer?

Why do you still refuse to admit that the racist, sexist, homophobic elephant in the room is indeed you?

Nearer, My God, to Thee

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Can I be mean for a sec? Of course I can, this is my Substack.

But I hate how many actors have gotten work done, especially lately.

While of course most celebrities get the “Hollywood special” upon entering the industry— the most popular being nose jobs, from Anya Taylor Joy to Meg thee Stallion and Meg thee Fox— it’s gotten to the point where I am completely turned off from watching their work altogether.

I recently saw Project Hail Mary and I really enjoyed it. I haven’t been to a theater to see a new film in probably, 5 years? I mostly go to see pretentious older films that deserve love (because what else am I gonna do with this film degree besides that and write a screenplay — which I did. But enough with the self-plug). This time though, I was actually excited to pay for overpriced popcorn and contaminated soda to support an actor I’ve grown up watching and loving for years— Ryan Gosling.

While watching the film, I immediately understood why Gosling was cast. I cannot think of another actor who could’ve played this character. It’s largely a standalone role that only someone with his personality type and acting chops could keep an audience entertained by essentially talking to himself for one plus hours.

In the movie, there were *(small spoiler) two or three scenes where his character is crying straight to camera. And rightfully so, he is alone in space. Despite the 4K close up where I could practically comb through his lashes with a Lancôme wand, I didn’t realize he was crying because the middle of his face did not move. His brows didn’t furrow. His cheeks didn’t cave in. His eyes didn’t wrinkle. Nothing about his facial expression clued me into the fact that he was crying.

It wasn’t until water physically came out of his eyes that I understood that he was trying to emote sadness. Devastation actually. When that single wrinkle emerge on his forehead like a flower bursting through concrete, I finally got it. And I teared up with him— actually, more than him, right in the theater.

I left the film satiated, but conflicted because seeing him try to display sadness on his face was more alien to me than the extra terrestrial being within the film. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great film to welcome me back to the theaters and I will still recommend people see it. But I felt a bit disconnected between what I just watched and how I felt about watching it.

It almost pains me to write this because parasocially, I love Ryan Gosling. Ever since my older sister’s Mickey Mouse Club rewatches when I was an infant, he has been on my screen. In my opinion, he is the full package: Charming. Talented. Humble. Actually funny. I can always count on him to pick interesting, challenging roles, yet remain endearing throughout. What a stacked IMDB page he has and I’ve seen and enjoyed about 85% of it— including this film. This film was genuinely fun to watch!

Moreso, I enjoy and thank him for calling out studios to take accountability and create films audiences would WANT to watch, rather than the other way around. Which is a breath of fresh air to hear, especially during this uninspiring era of lazy remakes and soulless reboots. However, I think that should also include the actors within these films too.

The Doctor Is In Out

It’s not just Gosling that has had me skeptical about watching new films and TV series. If anything, he makes a case for botox and filler not stopping an actor from doing their job well. But I think about some of the upcoming films like Practical Magic 2 and Devil Wears Prada 2 that I would be more excited to see if their actors didn’t change their faces so much.

In some roles, like the rich, unhinged, sexually feral woman Nicole Kidman often plays— it works. And in other roles, like the cunty, fashion editor at a Manhattan magazine who would definitely have work done like Emily Blunt — it is realistic. Frankly, these women are doing method acting. But for their other roles, their immovable Instagram face takes me out of it their projects.

What A Tragedy

I can still remember the soft crinkle of Robin Williams’s eyes in Patch Adams when the child pinches his clown nose.

I can still see the understandable betrayal lines across Sally Fields face in Mrs. Doubtfire at the restaurant in the end, but not the whole time (THE WHOLE TIME!)

I still feel Hugh Jackman’s despair at the bottom of the well in Prisoners.

These films are old af, but I can still relive them decades later because of how much the actor’s performances both physically and facially played a role. Their performances were HUMAN. Their performances were REAL. I want to see my actors angry. I want to see them embarrassed. I want to see them flustered, depressed, and happy! I don’t want their happiness stifled by some foreign fluffy facial substance!

I want to go through the rollercoaster of human emotion WITH an actor on screen. I want the actor to be my shaman leading me through the film. I want the script’s writing to get the recognition it deserves with an realistic portrayal of the range of human emotion! I WANT TO FEEL IT ALL, OTHERWISE WHAT IS THE POINT?

Crashing Out

It’s both a comedy and a tragedy that our actors have masked their faces so much, they can’t remember that it’s what makes them an actor in the first place. I theorize that A.I. has successfully made its way into media as swiftly as it has because it too, cannot emote human emotions. So what’s the difference between a human actor and an A.I. actor if neither is offering an accurate human experience to its moviegoers?

If you’re just going to recite lines, be a keynote speaker. If you’re just going to avoid looking ugly on screen, be a makeup artist. If you’re just going to give up what it means to be an actor, to be human, then you might as well give up your spot to A.I.

Is it crazy to say I want to feel it all?

Is it sadistic to say I want to keep it all?

Yes, this desire is most likely rooted in fear.

Yes, this ask probably originated from insecurity.

Yes, this unreasonable plea is a result of stubbornness.

But why should I be ashamed for wanting?

Why should I be scolded for longing?

There’s value in being sentimental, isn’t there?

Let me fantasize. Let me ruminate.

Let me cling on to my hopes as well as desperation.

There’s value in feeling that human, isn’t there?

I know this goes against the the great laws of chakra and the lessons Aang taught me— but I don’t want to detach. I want to experience everything again and again.

Maybe I don’t want to feel empowered by detaching, but rather understood from weathering through.

I want to hoard my emotions. I want to overfill my memories.

I want to stuff my spirit, vomit out the venom, and settle in for my third helping.

Maybe I’m worried that if I detach any further, I’ll disconnect from who I once was.

Then who would I be?

Could I, even be?

Paris Fashion Week has ended, and Chappell Roan is still trending— both for her looks and for her “attitude” towards paparazzi and fans. While understandably there is the “time and place” discourse happening (after all it is fashion week, in Paris), I also found people being apathetic towards her pleas to respect her boundaries. Too many people are forgetting that the singer was catapulted into a spotlight she was always wary of, and faced a personal stalker on her way there.

So today, I’m coming to Chappell’s defense.

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By now, we’ve all heard Timothee Chalamet’s Variety comments regarding the opera and ballet as art forms “no one cares about [this] anymore.” These comments were lazy and frankly, untrue. But what I took note of most, was Chalamet’s comment: “I just lost 14 cents in viewership,” right after, because he is regretful only in terms of analytical data instead of artistic vision.

I think amongst the piles of disappointed think-pieces about his comments, we are collectively grieving the same evolution— when did Chalamet stop being an artist?

Curiousity Corporations Killed the Cat

Chalamet’s overall comment that ballet and opera are essentially too boring to keep alive, is in the same vein that investors find authentic wardrobe and wig pieces to be too costly to invest in, and so their budgets are the first to be scraped. It’s in the same vein as studios who think investing in physical set designs and animatronics are too burdensome, and so they rely too heavily on CGI and green screens. It’s in the same vein as executives who think casting new talent is too risky, and so they recycle the same 15 Hollywood actors and their nepo children.

Quality wardrobe, realistic settings and fresh talent are of no interest to investors— but they are realistic requests by audiences.

Take for example Forbidden Fruits, a film with the potential campy level of Heathers with a marketing promise as the next Mean Girls meets The Craft. The actual trailer however, shows audiences a cheaper, bare minimum version of that storyboard. Nothing takes viewers out of the filming experience faster than a cheap Party City wig with no middle part, a Shein polyester pleather top, and a green screened cityscape with unnaturally flat lighting.

The visceral journey in feeling immersed within the film you’re watching is no longer worth “keeping alive” through this data driven by numbers mindset. That was a thing of the past, a creative’s pipe dream. Audiences are now expected to watch films like a visit to the zoo— casually and absentmindedly, rather than actively and intentionally.

Stop Trying to Make Fetch Happen

In my parasocial disappointment with the 30-year old actor, I found it interesting how often he said how “engaging” Barbie and Oppenheimer were, but he didn’t specifically pinpoint what was engaging about that cinematic phenomenon. In Margot Robbie’s Graham Norton interview, she shared how an Oppenheimer producer encouraged her to push back Barbie‘s premiere date. However, because she didn’t give in, Barbienheimer was created.

Barbienheimer wasn’t the result of an intentional marketing plan, it’s not even a name combo that rolls off the tongue easily. It emerged completely from the diversity of art choices to firstly satisfy audience interests, while welcoming them to possibly visit something different. Were history buffs expecting doll enthusiasts to want to see a war film before brunch? No, but the girls, gays and theys had a playdate and cigarette waiting for them after breakfast.

The success of Barbenheimer is what happens when you allow any art to present and perform organically rather than analytically. And that’s what studios (and Chalamet frankly) don’t understand. It’s precisely why it couldn’t be replicated through the marketing efforts of Gladiator 2 and Wicked, and why studios are still so confused by the popularity of Heated Rivalry. It has nothing to do with numbers or pre-planning, and everything to do with the love of art and opportunity for creative expression.

Risky Business

I also think it’s quite comical that Chalamet made this declaration to McConaughey, someone who successfully changed course and diversified at the height of his career more than once. McConaughey went from the go-to rom-com actor (The Wedding Planner, How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days) to strictly dramatic roles (Mud, Lincoln Lawyer), to then acting on the small screen (True Detective) right after winning an Oscar for his work on the big screen (Dallas Buyer’s Club).

This intentional move to diversify his craft as an artist, and not just as a film actor, led to an industry-level shift in how other actors, artists and eventually studios approached different mediums. It is the artist that envisions what’s possible creatively, because that is their role as a creative. That is not the role of the studio. And yet we find ourselves here.

Crashing Out:

Investing and diversifying your art as an artist takes intention. It takes appreciation. It takes risk, which seems pointless to a studio if there is no guarantee of popularity or accolades.

The studios are what happens when you don’t recognize that the small intentions behind investing in proper wigs, diversifying your cast ensembles and experimenting with film formulas all work in tandem to create impactful films.

But Timothee Chalamet is what happens when you don’t respect how all art forms, including ballet and opera (much like those studio wigs) contribute to the success and longevity of the Arts in general.

I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we are in the beginning stages of the matriarchy. Everything confirms this inevitable maternal shift, which started from the language we have always used to describe the human experience: Mother Nature, Mother tongue, Motherland, “Call me Mother.” Still, a few hundred thousand years of patriarchy is going to take some time to fully unravel.

You may be asking, how could the matriarchy possibly already be here, when we have less rights as women than we had 4 years ago? I would honestly say that the era of the matriarchy solidified because of Roe v. Wade being overturned. It was that cowardly and desperate act to control women that opened so many of our eyes— that this world will no longer be tolerated as is.

So now, we are all collectively trudging through the 7 stages of grief during the fall of patriarchy: Shock, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Testing and Acceptance.

SHOCK: What WAS the reason?

I would say for me personally, after Roe v Wade was overturned, it completely changed my perspective and desire to date men. I, like many women, actively stopped dating men for a few years because we were just so disgusted by it all. By how barbaric and unnecessary the decision was. By how casual men were going into work with female co-workers and still asking women out on dates as if everything was fine. By how many other things needed our political attention and legislation instead. I felt the same level of disgust in the same way the pandemic completely changed my perspective and desire to want children.

So, what was the reason? Why even do this? The patriarchy had already taken our time, our religion, our paystubs, our safety, our peace of mind— what more could men want? What more do we have left to unwillingly give?

DENIAL: And who set that system up?

The aftermath of Roe v Wade not going the way men foolishly hoped it would, forced them to confront the reality that the patriarchy doesn’t only take from women— but it takes from them too. That’s because patriarchy doesn’t allow for self-improvement through self-reflection, it instead encourages self-improvement through deflection.

After all, what’s a more delulu than thinking taking away a woman’s bodily autonomy would “fix” men’s romantic lives and communication patterns? What delusions of grandeur are men under, to believe that women would come flocking to them in panicked droves to birth children despite the obvious changing climate? How could reverting back to an era when women were viewed solely as political property going to give men the legacy they desire?

“I will not give birth to a life that will discriminate against my gender. My own flesh and blood must not become a blade and turn against me. If the world born from my body oppresses me, I will not let that world exist.”

4B by Korean women

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