Saving Face
September 14, 2009
Saving Face
Written and Directed by Alice Wu
You would think that tradition only lived where it was born. And you would be wrong. It follows you wherever you are; it’s not something you can separate yourself from. Surely something will give you away—the way you speak, the way you dress, the way you struggle to keep your shoes on when you enter a house because you’re just so used to taking them off, your slit eyes.
Wilhelmina grew up in the States, but was raised Chinese. She grew up in a liberal culture, and has assimilated into a kind of life that seems perfectly normal—except it doesn’t; at least not for her family.
Her widow mother, comically portrayed as a stubborn yet deeply understanding woman, drags her to regular get-togethers of the Chinese community, where Wilhelmina is expected to find her future husband. (Why, her mother asks, is she wearing men’s clothes again?) It is at these get-togethers that we see how high the expectations are to fulfill what has been dictated by tradition, culture, and elders.
Along the course of the story, Wilhelmina does meet someone, a childhood friend she has forgotten, and something begins between her and Vivian. Wil holds back. Vivian tells her, in a line I cannot forget, “you’re too scared to look the world in the eye and let it watch you fall in love.”
Together, mother and daughter learn about each other, learn to support each other, and learn to stand up for themselves. In a way uncharacteristic of the expected subtleties, they break away from the restricting concepts of arranged marriage, sexuality, and shame.
I appreciated the character of Wilhelmina’s African-American best friend, a laid back guy who thinks Wil worries too much. He gives comic relief that is welcome but unnecessary (this is a very light story), and it is for him that all the nuances of Chinese culture need to be explained.
Also, I enjoyed how the Chinese culture was illustrated, but I wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not it was accurate. Our Philippine culture, though, did seem quite similar, albeit much less blatantly imposed. Culture is just as much part of one’s identity as sexuality is.
Everything is intertwined.
Hard Love
August 31, 2009
I was a dependent twelve-year-old when I picked up Hard Love in the bookstore and handed it to my mother for her to skim and scan through the pages and ultimately determine whether or not the book was fit for me to read. She concluded, from what she saw, that the book was mostly about the character’s relationship with his parents, and was therefore safe for twelve-year-old me to read. Also, it was multi-awarded, with Michael Printz Award for Excellence in Young Adult Literature on a silver seal printed on the cover.
The book is also a winner of the Lambda Literary Award, which not many people know is given by a foundation that pushes for “raising the status of openly lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered people throughout society by rewarding and promoting excellence among LGBT writers who use their work to explore LGBT lives.”
Hard Love cover
Ellen Wittlinger writes the book for everyone whose first love was a hard love—and really, whose wasn’t?
Each member of the very diverse group of characters (who have nothing in common except for their passion for writing what they call zines) has his or her own set of personal issues revolving around dysfunctional family, sexual identity, and strangely enough, names.
You have a pair of very understanding, supportive parents on Marisol’s side, and another two parents who you really couldn’t call a pair, extremely distant and unable to communicate, on John’s.
Interspersed with excerpts from the characters’ zines, Ani DiFranco lyrics, letters, and poetry, is a story of how John falls in love with Marisol. John is not particularly interesting in comparison to Marisol Guzman, Puerto Rican Cuban Yankee Cambridge, Massachusetts, rich spoiled lesbian private-school gifted-and-talented writer virgin looking for love.
And it’s hard love, because you can’t blame anyone for why it just can’t work out. He can’t help who he fell in love with (and they say you’re not supposed to help it, anyway), and she can’t help who she can’t fall in love with. They’ve both had their hearts broken, but they aren’t meant to be the ones to mend the other one.
It’s not a happy ending, but you understand why it just can’t be.
South of Nowhere
August 17, 2009
By the time I heard about South of Nowhere, the show was on its last few episodes. I was a little late. I don’t think it’s ever been aired here. A friend burned me DVD’s of the first two seasons.
Its storyline was similar to that of any other teenage drama. Family moves to California from another state, the kids are exposed to local life and begin to adjust, the parents go through culture shock. It’s always the same, with just a little tweaking – look at The OC and 90210.
South of Nowhere scene from opening credits
So Spencer Carlin moved to Los Angeles and met the bitchy cheerleader, developed a crush on the heartthrob jock, and met the strange girl, Ashley, who didn’t quite fit in. But stereotyping is done away with soon enough. Each of the characters grows and learns – through religion, death, discrimination, drugs, money, sex, parenting, siblinghood, and prom.
By the end of the third season, you don’t have that character that you wish would just get out of the way of everyone else so that life could just be happier. The show isn’t presented in a particularly biased way; it just shows what is. The thing is, you have to be willing to see what is, as it is.
Don’t think of it as a lesbian series, because that’s not all it’s about – just like people are not solely defined by their sexuality. Everyone is something more. South of Nowhere is something more.
Perhaps what made the show succeed was that it had found its niche. It dealt with teenage homosexuality, which should’ve been so obvious, and yet no shows before it had ever focused on the topic. If anything, all the other shows would have at most a few episodes of a character going through a gay phase (Marissa Cooper in season two of The OC, and Rebecca Logan in season two of Greek).
It didn’t have the elements that would make other shows work – the stunning actors, the beautiful wardrobes, the poetic dialogue. (In fact, I personally hated the outfits). It was so simple.
I loved the day at the beach. It was beautiful. And I loved how Ashley always stressed, “because it’s so important.”
