#or the media literacy to see the precedents for the censorship in literally all of queer cinema/network tv

[deancasforcutie]

#and some people blame the writers! *scoffs* #even after reading these #y'all... if multiple writers put this type of stuff in their scripts and it routinely got taken out or softened... why do you blame them?! #the words aren't appearing there by magic! #the writers are -wait for it- writing them. #if after the studio and network give their own passes to the script those words are changed or missing -- GUESS WHOSE FAULT IT IS #hint: not the writers (via @ironworked)

spn scripts make me sick bc wdym dean was supposed to say "i love you" in the crypt scene??? wdym cas was supposed to go to his own personal heaven that was full of pictures of dean?? wdym dean spread cas' ashes in a field by a windmill bc he thought cas would have liked it?? wdym dean was supposed to tell cas "i wanted you to stay" in his purgatory prayer?? wdym that while dean was worrying about them dying cas was thinking about how beautiful dean was??? wdym sam was supposed to mention cas while dean was dying???? i am physically unwell.

[withintherealm]

The Unusual Grey Space of 13 Reasons Why: Boundary-Pushing Storytelling vs. Irresponsible Media

Everyone and their mom (actually, especially their mom) currently has an opinion on 13 Reasons Why, the new Netflix original series about a teenage girl’s suicide. Before her death, Hannah leaves behind a series of audio tapes that detail why she killed herself and who was to blame. It’s an inherently dark premise, and it just gets darker as you learn more and dig further into Hannah’s mind and experiences.

I binge watched this show in two days. I hit it hard. I was immediately impressed with it (and its soundtrack, but I won’t go into that here). I couldn’t look away from the dark story, and by the end, my immediate impression was that this show was impactful, meaningful, shocking, and important. The takeaway message for me was “We can do better. We’re not doing enough.” It felt like such a strong statement, and I was on board. Then came the opinion pieces from all over the globe.

There are two arguments going on here:

a) 13 Reasons Why is an intensely realistic portrayal of what teenagers are currently facing in American high schools. It portrays how mental health resources can be scarce or ill-equipped. How social media has changed everything for teens in the face of public shaming. How politics and money can take precedent over justice. Even how young females in crisis are often dismissed as being “over-dramatic.” The show is brave in not shying away from the brutal reality of teen suicide. It teaches teens that their actions have consequences and affect others in ways they may not realize. Teenage viewers, especially, have claimed the depiction of high school culture is devastatingly accurate.

b) 13 Reasons Why romanticizes and glamorizes suicide. It has serious potential of triggering copycats or inspiring the use of suicide as revenge. It’s irresponsible to depict horrific scenes such as Hannah’s suicide and Jessica’s rape in such detail, given that the show is marketed to teens and young adults.

As a person, I generally have opinions that swing harshly one way, but on this, I can see both sides. 13 Reasons Why is a very rare piece of work that straddles the line between boundary-pushing storytelling and irresponsible media. And it just so happens that I care deeply about both of these issues. I am deeply against censorship - I think art and media should be able to say whatever they want through any visuals, language, or method they want. But, as we’ve come to uncover in the last several decades of storytelling, media has direct correlation to how our culture develops and sees itself, and more so every day. From violent video games to dark films to a toxic social media feed, they all have real-life consequences. The way we portray marginalized groups has real-life consequences. We have to be cognizant of that. We don't have a choice.

So where does brutally realistic art turn into irresponsible media that has real potential of damaging our culture? It isn’t black and white. There is no fine line. There are dozens of nuances and considerations to look at here. So we should. We need to.

Media, especially television, is just going to get more complicated around these issues from here on out. The medium is becoming increasingly uncensored, thanks initially to HBO, and now Netflix, which has taken unprecedented reigns on artistic freedom. It’s led to the creation of some magnificent art, available for viewing at any time from any place. But with 13 Reasons Why, we’re beginning to see the dangers and concerns that can arise from such blatant artistic freedom in television, especially television that is thematically on par with R-rated movies and that children and teens can now access completely on their own.

The complications around Hannah’s death scene could easily be its own essay. Before I finished the series, I came across a headline that read, “Is Hannah Baker’s death scene the most disturbing depiction of suicide?” I figured the writer was probably hyperbolizing, but then I watched the scene. It’s irrefutably disturbing. You cannot describe the scene without using that word, and it’s very possible it is the most disturbing depiction of suicide on film. I flinched, covered my eyes, and cried for Hannah and her family. But is “disturbing” automatically cause for outrage? Or is “disturbing” an effective motivator to frighten young people out of choosing suicide themselves, as executive producer, Selena Gomez, claims it does? I’m not sure it’s either.

This is where artistic storytelling vs. real-life consequences really comes to a head. Because if we’re looking at this as a 13-hour movie, a fictional story, a purely narrative experience, there is also the issue of viewer investment and payoff. I realize that sounds a bit fucked up because we’re talking about a young girl’s death, but she is fictional, and more importantly, this series wouldn’t be structurally sound without a death scene, at the very least. While wading through the episodes, I thought about how much of a disservice it would be to the show, the viewers, and the character of Hannah Baker if her suicide was glossed over. We spent 13 hours learning about Hannah and why she was going to kill herself. We knew she was going to kill herself. When you look at the story in a vacuum (which most of us do as we binge-watch it in our bedrooms, entrenched in the story itself, not yet the ramifications of the story), it requires that end payoff, climax, grounding moment, whatever you want to call it.

The converse opinion is that this scene is unnecessarily graphic, triggering, and drawn-out. This article by an LCSW claims that Hannah’s death scene is literally “a tutorial on how to complete the act of ending your life.”

When one side claims something can take lives, and the other side claims it can save lives, it’s a pretty good indicator that we have no idea where we stand as a people on freely-accessible graphic material. And I don’t think it has anything to do with seemingly irreconcilable differences of our country like political party. I think it’s just comes down to the fact that technology, art, media, and our children themselves, are all growing faster than they have in any other generation. And until we figure it out, children and young adults are going to continue to feel confused when they see these kinds of graphic material. And they will be seeing more.

Every day, television is turning more and more into an art form, rather than a frivolous, mind-numbing, time-waster like our parents drilled into us. And artistic television comes with much more responsibility than mindless television. The same way you theoretically can put whatever you want in an art gallery, doesn’t mean you should. TV is taking on new formats we aren’t used to, like 13-hour movies you can watch in one sitting, and it’s asking more out of us in the process. I strongly believe the answer to these quandaries of responsibility, triggering material, and cultural acceptability lies in media literacy. Alongside English, math, science, and art, children and teens need to start being taught how to interpret what they’re seeing on their screens every day. They need to understand what’s real, what’s fake, what’s fictional, how it affects them, how it doesn’t affect them, what they can learn from what they’re seeing, and how to better choose what they want to see, rather than the current mentality that they need to see everything.

I am innately compelled to fight for artistic integrity, but I also care deeply about mental health, and the fact that so many licensed therapists and mental health professionals have spoken out against the show does speak volumes. As licensed therapist and YouTuber, Kati Morton, points out in her generally negative review, I agree that Netflix should have taken its many liberties to slip mental health resources into the storyline of 13 Reasons Why. It may have forced the writers to stray from the original text, but it could have saved face for the show and helped to paint it as a show that does indeed advocate for awareness and education of mental health issues as we trust that they originally aimed to do.

The reality is perhaps Selena Gomez & Team got exactly what they wanted with 13 Reasons Why: enough shock value to spark endless conversation, free advertising, and revenue from Netflix. But in this climate of polarization, we need to start acknowledging when something is grey, when we’re not sure how to proceed, when something has us divided on a topic as serious as teen suicide. The fact that so many of us can’t handle even thinking about the suicide of Hannah Baker, a fictional girl, could indicate deeper cultural issues surrounding shame and fear. But in a world where mental health concerns are becoming increasingly more prevalent, especially in adolescents, precautions also need to be prioritized. We can work on both. I hope the outcry to 13 Reasons Why doesn’t lead to widespread censorship, but I also hope with each of these debates, we get closer to a culture that creates and values responsible media, art, and all of its intersections.

[renthony]

I was going to keep ignoring arguments in the notes, but this comment is extremely irritating and I want to make something clear:

The idea that I don't really care about censorship because I refuse to reduce my opinions down to a shipping discourse label is laughable. I'm going to assume you're a random blogger who saw this in the wild and aren't actually following me, because if you did follow me, you'd see my regular writing about this topic. I'm particularly proud of the 5k research paper I was recently paid to write about all the censorship heaped on the Nimona film.

I have been invited to guest lecture about the Hays Code in a university media studies class. I have spent a great deal of time and effort tracking down media studies texts so that I can write about censorship and related topics in a way that's accessible to people without a university education. I financially support both local and online libraries (such as the Queer Liberation Library, to whom I dedicated a recent essay about Fahrenheit 451) whenever I have the funds. I keep tabs on what books are being challenged in my local school district and why. I am a dues-paying member of the IWW Freelance Journalists Union, because I literally write about this shit for a fucking living, jackass.

I object to using shipping discourse labels for my work because if I bring up the term "proship" or "antiship" in a serious academic or political discussion, they're not going to be taken seriously. Framing this entire discussion around fandom shipping terms is not helpful when the topics are infinitely larger than fandom discourse.

I am not going to stand up at a school board meeting and start talking about how those damn antishippers are ruining literacy. The average person who goes to city commission and school board meetings doesn't fucking know what "proship" and "antiship" even mean. The superintendent isn't on tumblr brushing up on the latest fandom discourse.

I'm not going to start calling Ron DeSantis an antishipper for all his book banning efforts and expect anyone to take me seriously. I'm not going to lecture university students about how Joseph Breen and Will Hays are infamous historical antis, or that the Joseph Burstyn, Inc. v. Wilson Miracle Decision opened the doors for proshipper victory against the horrible antishipper precedent set in Mutual Film Corp. v. Industrial Commission of Ohio. I am not going to write an article calling the Comstock Act a piece of antiship legislation we should be worried about in the repeal of Roe v. Wade. I'm not framing huge, serious, far-reaching political and social issues around a binary lifted from people screaming at each other on tumblr over whether or not it's ethical to enjoy horny fanfiction.

These discussions are not, and should not, be dominated by shipping discourse terms. It is unhelpful, reductive, and asinine.

We're done here.

I wonder how fast I'd die of alcohol poisoning if I did a shot every time someone in my notes boiled one of my posts down to "but are you pro or anti ship."

How many times, tumblr? How many times must I say that "proship/antiship" is a completely asinine way to frame this discussion, and no matter how much my opinions may align with one side, I'm not using a fucking shipping discourse label to discuss my media studies and censorship research?

"Are you pro or anti ship?" Neither. I am not engaged in shipping discourse. I am much more concerned with the ways that censorship is used to specifically target marginalized people raising awareness and making art about their own experiences and worldviews. You cannot enact any form of censorship without it hitting marginalized people the hardest.

I do not care about your ship wars when I am discussing things such as the Hays Code and 2024 book bans, and I am incredibly exhausted by how often people derail my posts into shipping arguments. It's slightly more tolerable when teenagers do it, because they're still figuring out how shit works and lord knows I fell into my fair share of rancid discourse as a teenager, but I am appalled at how often it's dragged into my notes by grown-ass adults.

"Proship/antiship" is a reductive framework grounded in bad-faith internet discourse drenched in purity culture. It is not a useful framework to use when discussing dark fiction, censorship, free speech, or obscenity laws. "Proship" and "antiship" are loaded buzzwords that make people stop thinking critically and engaging in good faith, and I have no tolerance for it.

I'm not interested in declaring my side in tumblr ship wars when I'm focused on things like, "when is the next local school board meeting regarding book bans, and am I eligible to run for the citizen advisory council that helps decide the fate of specific books?" and, "with the overturn of Roe v. Wade, in what ways do we need to be concerned about, and what ways can we raise awareness about, the enforcement of the Comstock Act?" and, "as a trans person living in Florida, how do I navigate my existence being treated as an inherent pornographic threat to children that should be censored and legislated out of existence?"

I do not care! About! Fucking! SHIPPING!