#but I'm fully aware I know nothing about chinese culture

[contes-de-rheio]

For lack of time to focus on one story, I've decided to write a very self-indulgent connected scenes, that I sincerely hope will never be published, except maybe for its (edited) epilogue.

[uh-velkommen]

More Thoughts On Gen V:

Mental Health:

I've been watching some reviews on the show and I think one thing that constantly gets overlooked is the conversation around Mental Health. Initially it's Emma who is the purger, her ED is linked to her powers (or so she thinks). Then we learn that its more so about her feeling small, being made to think she is unworthy or nothing. Marie is a self-harmer, whether or not you see it that way, she needs to hurt herself in order to use her powers (for now). It could go one of two ways, she hurts herself and then excuses it as "using her powers" (much like Emma) or it's just a bad habit that is subconsciously linked to her emotions (again, like Emma) and I don't think we'll get a clear answer on that until the next season within The Boys - Cinematic Universe (TBCU). But just think about how many times we see her cut to use her powers in the height of a negative emotion versus when she uses them through other means. Most important of all though: The fact that everyone in The Woods who was given Compound V, has a mental illness or disorder. We know this because Dean Shetty, who runs the thing, talks about her experience as a Phycologist and Sam quite literally has Schizophrenia. She chose to experiment with these children in particular because who would want mentally unstable kids with super powers running around? These kids, to her and the rest of the world, are disposable. They are dangerous, until controlled. Now think about Emma and Marie, aren't they dangerous? Well, no, because their illnesses are "hidden." And it's a perfect commentary on how we talk about mental illnesses today. Everyone wants to raise awareness about mental health until they're met with an illness that has potential to villainize the person who has it.

Gender Queerness:

I love Jordan Li! I think the backstory, having them be Chinese and their Dad sharing how proud he was to have given birth to a son where gender preferences with children is still such a hot topic in Chinese culture, was a brilliant move. I think about how if Jordan had never been given Compound V, they probably still would've experienced issues with their gender identity. The Compound V gave them a gift. (I like to think that Compound V only emphasizes something within the individual, like with Emma and her almond mom or the invisible dude and his perviness but I haven't seen enough evidence to prove this canon). And when Jordan and Marie got together I was so happy to see a Lesbian Protagonist double POC interracial relationship on steroids, except whenever they were together, Boy Jordan would appear and I got mad at the show for being heteronormative. But once again, TBCU came through and gave Jordan the opportunity to talk about how they feel like they have to be a boy for Marie, opening the floor for that conversation to happen between the two sometime in the future. It's a point on having to perform to make other people comfortable. The last thing was something I didn't even notice until Marie pointed out, was how Jordan always turns into a boy when they want to be heard or when they need authority. It's a beautiful note on how aware Jordan is of the privileges that come with passing as a boy. Jordan works with the patriarchy even if not fully intentional. It's the inherent entitlement that is instilled in men and the cultural influences that queer people have to actively unlearn in order to fully be themselves. (Also I feel like I made some poor word choices in the last bit. I'm not anti-men, just couldn't think of another way to say it😅)

Racism:

This part is so simple yet it didn't click in my brain until just now. Throughout the entire show we are being fed the idea that Vought could not have too many POC in the spotlight at once. There's no way a bigender Asian kid could be number one. We can only have one Black person in The Seven at a time. But we're watching this show under the guise that we will get a happy ending. The good guys are going to win this... Did you forget what show you were watching too? Homelander shows up at the end and we think the fighting will stop, until he damn near uses a slur at Marie. The NEW Guardians of Godolkin are two blonde-haired, blue-eyed, do-gooders and we realize that the finale had been foreshadowed the entire time: The minorities can never come on top.

[whoreviewswho]

Wokeness, Responsibility and if RTD is problematic - The First Black Doctor and the Meaning of Mavity

Is Russell T Davies a problematic figure? Is he too woke or not aware enough? Is he doing something wrong to illicit negative responses from the conservatives as well as the progressives? Is it something in the programme, something in the marketing or is he doing nothing particularly bad at all? Well, perhaps you and I, faithful reader, can come to some sort of conclusion. Let's find out together as we take a dive into the controversial choices behind RTD2 and the mind of the man behind them.

"The Doctor is the last of their kind - one of the last of their kind - and has never, like, fit in anywhere... and I really relate to that. I felt like there were lots of parallels... I was about two when we left Rwanda, so very, very, very wee... and something that I don't have much memory of. But it's something that has felt like this thing over my head. This thing that's guided my life, that's kind of like informed every aspect of it. It's the reason why my family came to this country. It's the reason for lots of things." - Ncuti Gatwa, DWM 598

Doctor Who's relationship with racial representation is complicated. Fuck that – Doctor Who has a lot of precedent for being racist. The original series is littered with explicitly harmful depictions of race from the pro-slavery parable that was The Ark to the notorious depiction Chinese culture in The Talons of Weng-Chiang and several examples of mindless, mute brutes in the Troughton era. This is before we even get into the less obtuse complexities of white, British actors donning any number of over-the-top costumes, extravagant voices and, frequently, some thick makeup to portray everybody from high priests of the Aztec empire to Egyptian and Syrian sultans. And, of course, there is the most pertinent example of these tendencies in The Celestial Toymaker, which we shall be getting back to shortly.

In the first article of this series, I referenced a video from YouTuber Princess Weekes called Martha Jones Deserved Better (And Other Correct Doctor Who Takes). In this video, Weekes breaks down a number of problematic elements from the revived series and, specifically, RTD's first tenure as showrunner. It is well worth a watch and gets into a lot more detail on these issues than I feel inclined to dismiss here but some of the key points include the problematic use of both Mickey and Martha within the 'disposable-black-love-interest' trope and the broader implications of Martha's relationship with the Doctor as a time travelling companion, for example, the poor optics of the Doctor becoming human and deliberately hiding with Martha in, of all places in the history of universe, pre-WWI England as if that would be a low-key and safe environment for her. These examples are emblematic of his mishandling of black characters across his first five years on the show.

With this in mind, let us fast-forward to the eighth of May 2022. On the day that turned out to be almost exactly two years before his first full season debuted, Rwandan born Scottish actor Ncuti Gatwa was announced as the newest actor to portray the eponymous hero in Doctor Who. On Christmas Day 2023, Gatwa made history as the first black leading man in the franchise's history. He is not, as will forever be rightfully and dutifully noted, the first black actor to play the role of the Doctor. That honour goes to Jo Martin's guest appearance in 2020 as the Fugitive Doctor. It will forever remain true, however, that Gatwa is the first black actor to assume the role as the leading man. As he put it himself in Doctor Who Magazine #598; "I'm the first Doctor of colour, fully". Ncuti's time as the Doctor, however long it may reign, will forever be associated with the man who spearheaded his casting – Russell T Davies.

Significantly, RTD2 does not begin with a black Doctor Who. As everybody reading this will know, it begins with the very white David Tennant, standing on a clifftop not wearing his predecessor's clothes. However, this is not to say that the three 60th anniversary specials entirely avoid engaging with race – far from it. I would think it much more reasonable to say that all three of them go to some lengths to be mindful of how characters of non-white and mixed race are depicted.

Let us take a glance at The Star Beast and, given that Donna Noble is particularly relevant to this conversation, I feel obliged to contextualise her two romantic partners from RTD1 and how they illustrate his similarly poor optics. Take her fiancé Lance, portrayed by Don Gilet in The Runaway Bride. He is introduced as a successful and charismatic love interest for Donna. She more or less works for him at H.C. Clements and falls head over heels for him before he reveals himself as a turncoat at around the halfway point. Soon after this, Lance, proving himself to be an irredeemably villainous figure, is killed by the Racnoss. It is perhaps notable to remember that there is nothing at a script level, insofar as Lance's characterisation and implied background, that suggests any specific racial or cultural background. Therefore, it is possible that his being a black man was not a choice made until the casting stage.

Fast forward to The End of Time when we learn of Donna's life since she returned home and discover that she is engaged once again, this time to Shaun Temple, as played by Karl Collins. Shaun returns in The Star Beast alongside Donna and their daughter Rose. In regards to Shaun, there is frankly very little to say because he is a very thinly drawn character. He is a supportive husband and father, he drives a taxi and he has a decent sense of humour. This makes up an exhaustive list of character traits he exhibits. Really, he is less of a supporting character and better resemble a minor role. He only exists as an extension of Donna and Rose's characters and serves to be a convenient mouthpiece for RTD to get out exposition. 

Rose, on the other hand, plays a key part in the plot and is pivotal to the conclusion. She is a strong and well-rounded character of mixed race who is essential to the story. That being said, and as the previous entry in this series explores in-depth, her actions in this story and the character herself are intrinsically connected to her trans identity, more so than her racial one. Regarding the supporting cast, it is also worth noting that Ronak Patani, an English-Indian actor, features as UNIT Major Singh. While a small role, it is a positive example of diversity in RTD2's casting and character roles.

Like Lance, Singh is likely an example of 'colour-blind casting', the practice of casting actors of any given race or ethnicity in roles and stories that place no particular emphasis on their respective backgrounds. Bridgerton (2020-present), for a popular example, frequently casts diverse ensembles despite the stories being told making little engagement with the implications of such a choice – Bridgerton is not a series about black people in high societal roles in the 1800s. There is an obvious appeal to this, not least of all the opportunity to cast phenomenal actors in roles they would conventionally be rejected from. 

In a similar vein is the notion of 'colour-conscious casting', a similar practice but one that provokes an active dialogue between the casting and content of the work. Hamilton is perhaps one of the the most recognisable works in this vein. Lin-Manuel Miranda's musical features a primarily non-white cast and retells the political history of the United States and the life of Alexander Hamilton. In Miranda's own words, Hamilton is "America then, as told by America now". Miranda's explicit intention here is to present the oppressive, white history of his country through the lens of Black and Latinx culture – being culturally and racially diverse is an essential component of Hamilton's thesis.

There has been criticism of these practices over the years with some black voices proclaiming it a problematic and racist approach. Playwright August Wilson, in 1996, spoke strongly against the practice insisting that "The idea of colorblind casting is the same idea of assimilation that black Americans have been rejecting for the past 380 years. . . . In an effort to spare us the burden of being “affected by an undesirable condition” and as a gesture of benevolence, many whites (like the proponents of colorblind casting) say, 'Oh, I don’t see color.' We want you to see us". This line of criticism has extended to works such as Hamilton, suggesting that the practice perpetuates the belief that white stories and white voices are the ones most valued in Western society. In an article by Emi P. Cummings for The Harvard Crimson, they articulated that "Any moment a white actor adopts the role of a person of color and vice-versa, there is an underlying suggestion all humans navigate their surrounding environments in the same manner. Race and ethnicity are minimized and reduced to negligible factors that can be transferred from person to person. In reality, one’s racial identity is an inalienable entity paramount to how they perceive themselves and are received by others."

So let's get to how colour-conscious casting pertains to Doctor Who for the first time with Wild Blue Yonder. In the cold open for this special, we find ourselves in the year 1666 and English-Indian actor Nathaniel Curtis emerging from his home in period appropriate garb. We quickly learn that Curtis is portraying a significant historical figure; Sir Isaac Newton, a white English man. For many viewers, the choice was received positively but it was not without its criticism. As popular YouTuber JayExci noted on X, "I'm not a rightoid and I'm not mad about it. I just think it's weird to cast someone of a historically inaccurate ethnicity to play a well known historical figure in the same way it would be weird to have a bodybuilder as Churchill or a teenager as current year Trump...It's not a big deal but I really feel there are better ways to achieve representation. Just portray a wider range of historical figures or whatever. One thing I actually did respect the Chibnall era for was finally exploring the history of parts of the world that aren't in Europe".

It is not a coincidence that this is a scene where a notable change happens in-universe. As a consequence of the Doctor and Donna's interaction, Newton fails to attribute the term 'gravity' to his theory of gravitation. Instead, he decides to call it the theory of 'mavitation'. The term 'mavity' then continues to be used in place of 'gravity' in-dialogue for all subsequent Doctor Who episodes to date. Most fans I have seen describe this change as a running joke or plot thread but I think that it has more weight than that. What 'mavity' signifies is the fact that Doctor Who stories are not beholden to the real world. Doctor Who, especially in RTD2, is a fantasy series that can play fast and loose with the established facts of the real world and make sweeping changes to its universe at the drop of a hat. This is also what is being demonstrated with Curtis' casting. He is not the same as the real Isaac Newton. He is different and changed and not beholden to the real world. Mavity is not just a random, ongoing joke but a statement of intent about race and representation in Doctor Who.

And so was the Toymaker. Let's get into this then. In 1966, a four-part Doctor Who serial that came to be known as The Celestial Toymaker aired on the BBC. In the words of Elizabeth Sandifer, from her article The Most Totally Closed Mind (The Celestial Toymaker); "this story is unrepentantly racist". The Toymaker, in his original conception and presentation, is a racist caricature of Chinese people. He is dressed in traditionally Chinese clothes, he is referred to as "the Mandarin"– he is, in Sandifer's words, "a nefarious, evil Chinese man who twists good Victorian children’s culture into sadistic and evil games".

With this in mind, it seems like an all-round terrible idea to revive the character for television in 2023. Like virtually every aspect of the Doctor Who universe, the Toymaker had already made numerous reappearances in expanded media before his return in The Giggle. To some extent, it is easy to see why. Throughout the wilderness years, The Celestial Toymaker serial was held in high regard and the concept of the Toymaker more broadly, an immortal and god-like entity who whiles away the doldrums of his existence by challenging lesser beings to sadistic games, is a really compelling one. These revivals have, for the most part, steered well clear of the 'celestial' connotations as they were onscreen, instead opting for the more cosmic definition of the word; he is the celestial toymaker who sits above us all in the sky.

But RTD is too clever for this. RTD thinks. So, he brings back the Toymaker and drops the racist adjective entirely. A sensible decision but then he goes that step further, the step he continues to take. He steps into the spotlight on an episode of Doctor Who Unleashed. On the issue of racism with the Toymaker, Russell made the following statement; 

"I can absolutely guarantee you, on transmission, people will pipe up, saying, in 1966, this was a racist character. And if we haven't acknowledged that in some way, we look ignorant, I'm very, very aware of it, and it's baked into him. And that's part of the reason bringing him back. He's a villain, of course he's going to do terrible things, and that's one of them. I did not want to whitewash the Toymaker then, so I gave him this side of putting on accents. He's a murderer. He's a mass murderer. So, I like the fact there's that very slight thin thread of him playing with race, playing with voices, playing with accents, using it as an attack."

This was an approach I can't imagine many people predicting. Instead of reintroducing the Toymaker with an entirely different characterisation and set of aesthetic qualities, instead of attempting to severe ties with the character's history as a racist caricature, RTD decided to double-down on it and make the Toymaker a racist entity who relishes in cultural appropriation in-text. Now, as per RTD's vision, the 1966 Toymaker was in-fact actively and intentionally racist. He chose to appropriate the Chinese because that is the sort of thing his character is liable to do. There is still an objectionable issue to this approach that some fans have noted, however, which is that, despite the intended reasoning, The Giggle depicts racist acts despite the story itself not actually being about race in any meaningful way at all.

But we should get to the bigger elephant in the room here; the debut of Ncuti Gatwa. Unlike tradition, David Tennant's Fourteenth Doctor does not regenerate into his successor. Instead, RTD introduces a new concept which he called 'bi-generation'. Instead of regenerating, the Doctor splits off into two seperate bodies, one still resembling David Tennant and the second resembling Ncuti Gatwa. In a lot of ways, this is a great idea. In a subtextual and meta sense, the Fourteenth Doctor embodies the BBC Wales version of Doctor Who. He is rundown and burnt out. The return of an old face becomes, not just a turn toward nostalgia but, a signifier of a character and a programme that is too tired to keep moving forward and out of ideas. Gatwa's Doctor is the clean break, free of all of the emotional baggage that the last version of the show had built up over the years. The old version of the show has a definitive ending and is retired for good while the new version races off into the future, entirely unimpeded by the past and ready for new adventures.

This is also a terrible idea and another exercise in poor optics. Intentionally or otherwise, RTD has now created the perfect out for any racists watching the show to never accept Gatwa as part of the fold. As Charles Pulliam-Moore states in his article for The Verge, The new Doctor Who debut felt like a timey-wimey slap to the face, "everything about the way 'The Giggle' brings Fifteen into the picture — from the way he’s left standing in his underwear while Fourteen remains mostly clothed to the implication that the two Doctors will seemingly coexist — makes it seem as if Davies is trying to placate the contingent of fans who don’t want to accept a queer, Black actor playing the Doctor role by keeping Tennant in the mix". RTD has created an entirely plausible read where the Doctor splits off into a queer black man, while the original, the 'proper' Doctor in the eyes of bigots, walks off into the sunset.

Unfortunately, the problems do not end here. As Pulliam-Moore goes on, "The trappings and optics of “The Giggle” also add an unfortunate kind of magical negro quality to Fifteen’s heart-to-heart talks with Fourteen... The concept of a time traveler “doing rehab out of order” certainly sounds cool on the page. But within the episode itself, it frames Fifteen less as his own person living for himself and more as a source of emotional support for Fourteen, who ends up being inspired by Fifteen’s sage wisdom". And all of this in the same episode as the deliberately racist Toymaker. 

Ncuti Gatwa made his leading debut in Doctor Who with The Church on Ruby Road. The Christmas special introduces a new leading lady with Millie Gibson and introduced the threat of goblins which received minor backlash for their association with negative Jewish stereotypes. Thankfully, their depiction and the story offered little reason to draw this connection. As for the Doctor himself, the story adopts a distinct colour-blind approach presenting the Doctor, at a script level, with no particularly defined racial subtext. He is safely written as a standard, vaguely defined Doctor archetype that happens to be performed by a black actor.

At the time of writing, we are just shy of two weeks from Ncuti's first season dropping in iPlayer and Disney+. Of the eight episodes, we now know that none of them are written by black authors leaving, to date, the sole black writer of the first mainline black Doctor to be Abi Falase and her novel Eden Rebellion. So, in 2024, we have RTD as the loudest voice and architect of Ncuti Gatwa's era. I suppose that this series of articles exists in this moments as less of a definitive statement and something more like a prolonged literature review in preparation for what RTD2 is really going to be like. RTD has his heart in the right place. He remains a good intentioned and intelligent writer whose ambition often exceeds his abilities. Is there anything inherently bad about saying that racism is something evil people engage with but being disabled is certainly not reserved for them? Not at all. RTD is an excellent writer who means very well. He also sometimes, despite all of this, goes about things in the wrong way. 

And I think that that is okay :)

[butch-bakugo]

I mean... This whole "issue" of people using names of cultures they dont belong to dose have some merit. Like i get that you dont want someone appropriating cultures or fetishizing others or using things they dont understand and i fully agree

However!!

It comes from 4 weird places. First off, you cant just assume someone isnt a part of the culture their using the name from. Like people can look nothing like some of their races and you habe no idea what culture someone could of been adopted into and raised in. You have no right to tell someone who isnt ethnically/racially chinese who was raised in chinese culture after being adopted by chinese parents that they cant connect with the culture they were raised in. Ur a fucking idiot.

2nd off, dont just assume anyone who uses a name from a different culture is doing so unknowingly, fetishly, appropriatively or without full comprehension. Like idk man, some people are actually informed and know the origins of the name they want to go by. Some people can genuinely like a name and culture and it dosent make them a "fetishist" if they are respectful. Names are not an appropriative property. You cant pretend your something just by having a name outside of your culture/race. There are many bellas in the world and no one automatically assumes they're italian. There are many levis(oh look! The name most people know me as and is listed as my main name!) And no one assumes they're Hebrew/jewish. To automatically assume anyone who uses a name is an idiot and dosent know its origins or meaning is very pretentious. You dont know that person. You dont know their life or their amount of research, if done at all.

3rdly. This is the internet. Who gives an actual shit??? What fucking sociopath in 2022 gose by their actual irl name on the internet? Thats how you die. Thats how you get swatted and doxed. Its so dangerous to go by your legal name on the internet. Not to mention that names on the internet mean fuck-all. Anyone could be behind the screen of any gender, sex, ethnicity, culture, history, etc and you have no idea if they are what they say they are. An internet persona is a mirage and you have no proof or idea if any info ive said about myself is correct, hell, you have no clue if any info anyone on the internet said about themselves is correct.

Given, for clarities sake, I'm not lieing about the shit ive been through or what i am. Thats a pretty elaborate, complex and detailed lie to keep up and id perfer to not give myself the stress associated with that.\gen

But seriously. I could actually be asian. Or not. I could be an a.i for all you know. Cut the crap, you dont genuienly care who uses what name from what culture. The only people who care are American white liberals with brainrot.

4th and most importantly, and imma put on big text for this cause its real fuckin important

The idea that people can/should only use names from the cultures they originated from is based in ethnic cleansing and segregation.

It was made to make the "enemy"(see:poc) visable. To notice them on job applications or in doctors offices. The idea is if they feel they must name their child by their culture that they can be more easily spotted then oppressed. So many poc parents, especially those who are black or immegrants, admit to choosing to give their babies whiter names so they are less likely to be picked on and more easily blend into english and/or American society. By taking away the notion that "x culture sounding name means your automatically x", we take away the power of assocation that racists rely on. We remove the assumptions and force people to be more racially open and aware.

Im not saying names should be completely stripped of their culture significance,obvs but saying "black people can only have black names and white people can only have white names and asian people can only have asian names" sounds racist as fuck to me. Sounds segregative, isolating and like some half hearted attempt at "ethnic name-al purity" which is gross. Its like assigning genders to clothes or pronouns to objects, it makes no sense to force it to only be one thing when it is innate.

Thats my more in-depth take and i utterly refuse to acknowledge this stupid conversation again. Seriously. Saying "only x people can have x cultural names or else your a fetishizing appropriative racist" is fucking stupid and weird and have some racistly sterotypical undertones all delivered by a as usual, white knight, someone who has no say in the game.

Your free to disagree but i speak as a native american and inuit person that i Litterally dont give a shit if someone uses cherokee or inuk names as long as their informed and respectful to its origins. And neither should you for any race as names are no exception,

[volimetangere]

Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior

Written in 1976, The Woman Warrior is presented to us as a memoir that moves between China and the U.S. The narrative is composed of a collection of stories about women that blur the boundary between fiction and non-fiction: the narrator’s sister-in-law who committed suicide with her daughter (“No Name Woman”); Fa Mu Lan’s transformation into a warrior (“White Tigers”); Brave Orchid’s youth as a medical student in China (“Shaman”); Brave Orchid’s reunion with Moon Orchid in the U.S. (“At the Western Palace”); and the narrator’s schooldays, in which she grapples with silence and intergenerational translation (“A Song for a Barbarian Reed Pipe”).

Necessity and Extravagance

The narrator's aware of how her mother's life revolves around necessity (6), in contrast to her aunt who may have committed adultery, a form of extravagance. The narrator rethinks the possibility of adultery, deciding that it was impossible for her aunt to even have the choice of committing adultery: "to be a woman, to have a daughter in starvation time was waste enough" (6). This opposition between necessity and extravagance returns when the narrator goes off to college - Berkeley in the sixties - she notes that she fails to turn into a boy (47). Supposedly, if racialized women are able to attend a renowned university and enter the public sphere, they can overcome the structural exclusion that prevents them from becoming fully human. But the narrator suggests that education is an extravagance for her, in the eyes of her family, because it cannot change her into a boy. In her reluctance to be married off, the narrator refuses to perform domestic tasks well, becoming a "bad girl," which she considers may render her more proximate to a boy (47).

When she visits her mother when older, her mother notes that she can't stop working--if she does, her body begins to hurt. The narrator confirms that she experiences the same: "I'm like that too, Mama. I work all the time. Don't worry about me starving. I won't starve. I know how to work" (106). Her mother is reminiscent of the subject dead to desire (Eng and Han; Antonio Viego) who cannot exist outside of necessity. This perpetual necessity points towards the impending sense of death that looms - the subject is constantly trying to stave off their own death. And even when she has enough material resources to pursue non-essential desires or have a moment of respite in her old age, her body will not let her rest. It keeps the count of the slow trauma necessity wrecks upon the body. Because she could not invest in extravagant ideals, when she could finally live beyond necessity, she has nothing to keep her living.

Ghosts

The second half of Kingston's title is Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts. Ghosts are both actual ancestors that haunt the narrator and a translation of a Chinese word of the "other" whose figurative meaning is closer to "alien" or "foreigner." Because of the literal meaning of "ghost," there's almost an ontological difference that's posited when the "other" becomes a ghost. The deceased ancestor that haunts the narrator has been silenced by her family--the narrator doesn't know her name and feels like she is participating in her aunt's punishment by not asking for details in a culture of silence. But she writes about her aunt in her memoir, with a sense of danger - her aunt "does not always mean well" (16). There is the risk that the drowned one" will "wai[t] silently by the water to pull down a substitute" (16). Kingston risks becoming a substitute by telling this story, but her speech is an attempt to not forget, to give her aunt the sustenance that memory may give to a ghost.

When Moon Orchid, the narrator's aunt, encounters her Chinese American husband, she experiences an intense moment of shame: "Her husband looked like one of the ghosts passing the car windows, and she must look like a ghost from China. They had indeed entered the land of ghosts, and they had become ghosts" (153). There is the one moment in the story where the beholder and the beheld become ghostlike together. In her vulnerability, Moon Orchid does not judge her husband as someone who has become white, calling him a ghost to denigrate him and ontologically separate herself from him. Instead, she experiences her own difference as well - both of them are strange and inhuman to the other. The U.S. becomes the "land of ghosts," the place that ontologically changes people so that they become irrevocably separated from each other.

Later on, Moon Orchid imagines Mexican ghosts are plotting on her life. She's having a mental breakdown, but there's a resonance with Trump's fear of Mexicans, the "other" that is too close to the self, who will threaten the self. Moon Orchid's experience of her own otherness (her husband says "it's as if I had turned into a different person. The new life around me was so complete; it pulled me away. You became people in a book I had read a long time ago" 54) becomes externalized and project onto another ethnic other.

The narrator doesn't use ghost as a marker of estrangement from another person; they're someone different she lives besides. She talks about liking the "Negro students (Black ghosts) best because they laughed the loudest and talked to [her] as if she were a daring talker too" (166). They protect her from the Japanese kids who would bully her, who were recently released from "concentration camp" (166). The nation's violence towards its ethnic others is reproduced in the playground, creating moment of alliance, vulnerability, and hostility in diasporic children whose intergenerational and transnational conflicts become understated or illegible in the education system meant to foster an individualistic white subject capable of self-determination--and speech.

Silence and Self-Creation

The narrator experiences misery at school when she learns that she has to talk. She remarks that "the other Chinese girls did not talk either, so I knew the silence had to do with being a Chinese girl. I did not speak and felt bad each time that I did not speak" (166). From her peers' silence, the narrator confirms the stereotype of the quiet Asian American girl. But there's a contrast between American school and the Chinese school, where the boys would talk back and the girls would scream (167). There's a sense that the children are afraid to extend themselves into the world in American school - they hyper-regulate their behaviour, conscious of their difference. The narrator speaks of the girls "invent[ing] an American-feminine speaking personality, except for that one girl who could not speak up even in Chinese school" (172). They develop a "false self" to help them navigate the foreignness of the school system, which expects the students to talk, explain themselves, establish their personalities through speech. It's not that the students have no self - their selves are better expressed through their articulate chaos in Chinese school than the expectations of individual expression in American school. Chinese school is a space of play, while American school causes the children to be cautious and afraid.

But it's clear that the narrator is ashamed of her own silences; at the end of the memoir, she recounts her bullying of a girl who can't express herself: "I could work her face around like dough... I hated fragility. I walked around her, looked her up and down the way the Mexican and Negro girls did when they fought, so tough" (176). The contrast between the silent girl's malleable face and the narrator's non-Asian performance of strength suggests that the narrator's deeply ashamed of the weakness she spots in Asian femininity. In pinching the other girl's face and demanding that she talk, the narrator is attempting to disprove the stereotype of Asian meekness, the meekness she despises in herself. Her tirade towards the silent and crying girl demonstrates her own sense of insufficiency when faced with the imperatives of American public education: "You have to work because you can't be a housewife, no one's going to marry you... that's all you are if you don't talk. If you don't talk, you can't have a personality. You'll have no personality and no hair. You've got to let people know you have a personality and a brain" (180). While tormenting the girl who unconsciously stands in for her own perceived weaknesses, the narrator expresses her suffering and desperation to become the articulate, rational individual that the U.S. values. It's not that she or the other girls aren't capable of expression or thought, but that the education system's demand for her to become visible as a personality asks her to produce a coherent and rigid narrative. Having grown up in a family of silences and evasiveness ["How can Chinese keep any traditions at all? They don't even make you pay attention, slipping in a ceremony and clearing the table before the children notice specialness. The adults get mad, evasive, and shut up if you ask" (185)], the narrator cannot easily narrate, and in narrating, create the self that comes so easily to her white classmates.

At the end of the novel, the narrator arrives at a moment where she desires to tell her mother two hundred things she's left unsaid (192). The narrator compares her desire to confess to her mother to the confession that her Catholic Mexican and Filipino classmates attend. Foucault argues that confession is a way of reinventing yourself. In Giving An Account of Oneself, Judith Butler refers to how Foucault sees confession as "an act of speech in which the subject 'publishes himself,' gives himself in words, engages in an extended act of self-verbalization… [which is] a way of making the self appear for another" (112). Perhaps the narrator wants to recreate herself, using her mother as the primordial "other" who can provide her understanding, a holding environment in which she can test the coherence of her internal reality and the external world. This moment of imagined confession is where the narrator moves towards what Winnicott considers as play, a malleable space between the internal and external, which helps the self establish boundaries, tapping into the "true self" that is creative and unafraid. There is the potential for the narrator to create herself on her own terms, rather than under the conditions of formal schooling.

However, her mother tells her to stop whispering: "Senseless gabbings every night. I wish you would stop. Go away and work. Whispering, whispering, making no sense" (200). Work comes in again, as an alternative to the language that her mother cannot understand, not because her daughter is speaking in a foreign language, but because her daughter's confession does not seem necessary for survival. The narrator's mother cannot tolerate her daughter's excess. The world did not give her enough nourishment to help her understand that extravagance. The act of telling a story about one's self - on one's own terms, with strange and outrageous and colourful, associative details - is a way of creating ourselves so we can live. Out of love, the narrator wants to give herself away to her mother and exist capaciously in front of her.

[nikkifilm]

Maynila Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag (1975) & Insiang (1976), dir. Lino Brocka

Maynila sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag had a small cast, yet it was effective enough to be able to portray what the director wanted to show the audience. For the most part of it, I find myself being drawn to the movie which is definitely a good thing, by the way, but in all honesty, I don't like how the turn of events follow throughout the film. I didn't like what was happening in the movie, but it doesn't necessarily mean that I don't like the movie itself; there's a thin grey line there. I do get the point that the plot of the film isn't exactly rainbows and sunshines, but it was all so heavy to take in. Although yes, that is the point, and maybe it says about how harsh life can be when set foot to the city of Manila where you think it's where you'll become successful yet only a start of something that could change your life forever. I happen to always put myself in the characters' shoes in every film, whether it may be something I have experienced myself or not. It's a way for me to be able to comprehend and fully understand what the characters are going through and how they deal with it. I'd say one is a good movie when it makes me feel something. Since I was able to empathize with the characters in this movie despite the differences in the generation, experience, and status in life, I was still able to feel for them, and that I think is what makes it a good movie for me.

The same can be said on the other Lino Brocka film, Insiang. The characters in the film aren't a lot too, yet it effectively shown what its message is. I adore how the characters are all unique in their own way and have their respective personalities. They all have their own voice in the movie, regardless if their character is likeable or not. To some extent, you are able to see some gradual character developments in the film despite the setting being the same places over and over again. Especially with the main character, Insiang. You'd see how she's very passive and innocent-like. It's as if despite all the things that had happened to her, she still doesn't try to fight back. She attempts to get help from the people she trust but to no avail. I've been waiting that if not any of the people in the film can help her, maybe she'd help herself by finally fighting back and standing up for herself. What we did see though is her doing things unexpected of her, like how she starts to seduce and give in to Dado when she was harassed by him without being scared of what her mother nor her boyfriend would react about it. It then turn out to be Insiang using Dado as a way to get revenge on her boyfriend and her using her mother's anger towards Dado's betrayal in order to drive her to murder Dado as a way to get revenge on both him and her mother.

With regards to the style or visual of Maynila, the setting really do depict the contrast between rural and urban areas. The setting has this realistic vibe that builds up to the scenes and blends well with its entire plot. This adds up to the realistic approach the film wants to put. Also considering the time this was made, the cinematography is well put out. I'm quite impressed how they've managed to pull of some of the shots. With the era this has been made where there are little to no resources with regards to visual or special effects, the film has successfully achieved a visually pleasing masterpiece. The shots are done raw and all so naturally which is just right for the entirety of the film. In terms of the narrative, it's immensely focused on the character of Julio, how we can see his development that would later turn into his transformation into a violent person. I love this way or storytelling because you, as a viewer, would feel more connected to the film and get invested to the character that would have a greater impact. In this way, not only do you get emotionally invested, it makes you want to watch the film as you get hooked waiting for what would happen next. As I watched the film, I was able to see that and also feel empathy for the main character. It's something that rarely occurs to a film that you may not be familiar with or a big fan of or something that doesn't really sparks your interest, and that says a lot about how this film was able to go beyond what you are expecting and makes you root for the character and as well as the entire plot. 

For Insiang, however, the style and visual wise, it had shown the rawness of the lifestyle within a small town that is typical of the Philippine setting. The way they captured this goes the same with Maynila, and that's one of the little factors that makes you think that they are both made by a single director. It's pretty much similar to Maynila in a way that it depicts the way of life in a certain community and a certain household. You could also see some similarities with the actors and actresses in both films. What I was able to notice too is how the setting they utilize in the film are always fixed that you don't just see the places once or twice, it's pretty much shot within a particular area that is noticeable. There's nothing bad with that, though. It's in fact fascinating how they repeat the settings without it feeling dull and tiring. There's always something new or different within the setting that is constant throughout the film that enables you to observe how some of the characters progress or change and indicates how the story develops.

What I have observed from the film languages are how they have utilized the different angles in certain scenes that depict how a person is low down the slums or high above anyone else. It also indicates how something is important or when something is about to happen. There's nothing much to point out with regards to it, but the fact that they have used this as a means to tell something to audience is really prominent and I love how it speaks directly to the audience. You know when someone is connected or disconnected to a person. You also know when someone is trustworthy or sketchy. There have been a lot of this that plays around with the viewer's perspective. Nonetheless, it had been effective at delivering a message and telling a story behind it.

Applying the context of the Auteur Theory in both films from Lino Brocka, you'd see the similarities between the two in general. With Maynila, you see how it's a story about a man from province grew from innocent to violent because of anger and vengeance. Same goes to Insiang, you'd see how a simple girl from the slums of Manila grew from silent and passive to vengeful and passive-aggressive. Both of the main characters in the films have this common ground and goal. Same with how their character was developed into something they didn't use to be. What can be said from these similarities are how the director wants to send a message. Perhaps it had something to do with the repression. It can be seen in Maynila that the one who held Julio's girlfriend, Ligaya captive in the urban city is actually a Chinese. That subtly indicated that at that period there have been already a quarrel between the Philippines and China. As for Insiang, it is seen how the people she's close to or hold on to for help don't actually care for her and are not sincere. They all have their selfish minds and cruelty on Insiang which is why she turned on them. Perhaps it also tells something about repression, maybe something about how we have been colonized only to be used and abused. 

The two films, besides having major similarities, have an identity that makes you think that it is a Lino Brocka film. By watching them, there's that unspoken truth that lies between the films that it is something made by this particular director. It reflects how he has these ideals and perspective in the Philippine context. Perhaps it's also safe to assume that he is driven or motivated to direct said films because of an underlying issue or problem that the country is facing.

Maynila tackled the social issue with regards to the twisted side of Manila, and how people from provinces are blinded by it. It shows their naivety, how they think highly of those who reside in Maynila. Although to some extent, I find it becoming extremely cliché, it's still the reality we have that's still happening up to this date; it probably have gotten worse throughout the ages. However, they don't only show the bad side of Maynila. They have also shown that despite the wrong people they've trusted and encountered along the way, there will always be people who are genuinely kind and concerned. It's a balance of the good and the bad side of Maynila, although the bad side of it is dominant; and as someone who grew up in Metro Manila, I do agree with it to a certain point. There are also scenes that show the side of the LGBT Community back in this era, that they are more objectified and stereotyped that aren't a good reflection of how they identify with compared to this day. They are seen more of a threat to the society and are only seen as people who are obsessed with men and sex, who would also do everything to make money out of prostitution and in exchange, pursue them.

On the other hand, Insiang had tackled more on the abusive side of Manila or the country in general, especially during those times. How particular women are always objectified and abused. These can be observed with the first few parts of the film, how the women in the film are abused or harassed and there is little to none justice to it besides personal vengeance from family members or friends. It's as if it's a norm and not considered as a crime or a sort of abuse compared to how sensitive a topic it is to this date. Rape culture in the country have also been tackled in this film, and it is alarming how back then, there weren't much protection for women and how lacking the generation was with its awareness towards rape. It also signifies how victims aren't heard but are often judged, and when it comes to asking for help, there are little to none that you can reach out to or would actually offer to help you with it. That being said, it had also talked about the toxic masculinity especially back then where men were in power compared to women and that they "own" the women they "love". Another is how in every conflict, it must be resolved through violence where in not only it is toxic but also unnecessary as not everything has to end up with that. It had also tackled the judgmental society, how every action that you make, regardless of what intentions you have or if it really is a fact, people will always talk about you the way they choose and want to see it. People create their own truth, and although this film didn't entirely focus on that, the fact that it is there speaks about the society we have back then and up to this date. Lastly, it also tackled about the toxicity within family members, that despite their abusive traits, you must stay with them because they are "blood". This is shown through Insiang's mother, how she talks down to Insiang and see her more as a maid than her daughter, ordering her around every time.

Maynila had a lot of scenes I personally didn't like, but doesn't necessarily affect the quality of the film. One of the things that I only find unnecessary in the movie were certain events like two of Julio's friends dying throughout the film, Perla's home burnt down, Julio being robbed by a cop, him encountering gay prostitutes, and so on. I find them completely absurd and irrelevant to the main plot of the film which mainly revolved (or at least what it implied) within Julio's job and the whereabouts of his significant other, Ligaya. I kept having questions as to what happened and how it led there, but these events are constantly happening in between the film which to some extent infuriates me until I get tired or bored of it. It made me grew frustrated, probably because they kept teasing like how they showed that one Chinese place Julio thinks Ligaya is in yet gets no leads or progress from it besides when he sees the lady that brought Ligaya in Maynila. Maybe it would've been much better if they put out some of those unnecessary scenes that I might as well call “fillers”. But I do get it though, it adds up to what I was talking about when they were trying to also show the bad side of Maynila. I also didn't like how they portrayed the LGBT Community but I do understand that it's different back then compared to today. But there is certainly no denying that I didn't like how that turned out to be.

Same with Insiang, there are also a number of scenes that I didn't like, and those are the aforementioned social issues that have been tackled in the film. One of those that I have mentioned that I particularly didn't like was the way they have shown how badly treated Insiang was, particularly women. I didn't like how the other women Insiang trusted turned back on her, especially her mother. Women are supposed to help each other against the repression against abusive men, but that wasn't shown in this. Although what substituted to that was how they shown Insiang develop into a vengeful woman and indirectly ruined their lives which is what I liked about it. It was powerful, they way she took revenge on the people who have hurt her. You would expect that she'd turn on them typically by forming an alliance or taking them down violently or anything that anyone would expect to happen. This one took a different perspective on vengeance, how she was able to take down the people who had hurt her without getting in trouble nor getting her hands dirty. It was something logical and psychological, and that's something I didn't expect from a film that's dated a few decades ago.

I find Maynila great despite of how a lot of things change in our society, views, and culture. Simply by looking at how things were way cheaper back then compared to now is already a big factor of change, which is why it's somehow challenging to be able to review a film from a different generation objectively especially since there had been drastic changes in the field of cinema as well. Nonetheless, it's fascinating how the movie can still speak to you and how there are things that haven't changed — like how some issues tackled in the film can still be seen nowadays, and it's alarming. It serves as an eye-opener to each and everyone of us, no matter where you came from. Whether you were born in Metro Manila, raised in the province, or vice versa, you will be able to feel for this film. It's how great its impact is, especially to the Filipino.

As for Insiang, it wasn't something I was expecting from the beginning to the end. It's very unpredictable and at the same time a great film. It's way ahead of its time, and it's also something that speaks to the audience, especially with the underlying messages and social issues that it has. Regardless of what period you are in, it's safe to assume that the issues that it tackles will always be relevant in the society you live in. It makes you think how these things are already occurring back then yet is still happening today. Although it's alarming, this film had managed to be able to send that message off to its viewers and that alone is something commendable for a film and a director. You'd see how Lino Brocka really has that deep kind if mindset towards these things and it does help you too, as an audience to become more wary of the society and the issues we are facing, regardless if you are directly affected by it or not.

There's nothing much recommend really, but I wished there were parts that they changed or didn't do, especially when it has little to nothing to do with the plot or storyline. But the main reason too as to why there's nothing much to recommend is because of how these films are made during its time, where all the values, ideals, culture, and mindset were different comapred to how it's shaped to this date. All in all, both films directed by Lino Brocka are something that each one of us need to watch. It may not be suitable for everyone, yes, but you know that the message behind every film he makes have something to tell you that a certain problem in the country is happening at this point and we have to do something about it. It's a food for thought that films like these are a medium used to communicate to people and spread awareness on the coexisting problems we face or people face on a daily basis. In conclusion, not only does Lino Brocka have a mindset that's beyond his time, he also sees to it that the films are something that will speak to the general audience despite the differences in perspective and experience.