On Capitalischm...and Race

I recently watched the Dardenne brothers' Two Days, One Night, which is as straight-up a critique of capitalism as I've ever seen in a film (note: I haven't seen that many films in my life, so maybe that's not saying all that much?).  It was the first film I've ever seen by those two and if it is any indication of their work as a whole, I'm hungry for more.  There are few things that get to me more than old French Marxists, with their shocks of white hair and their solid, insouciant belief in the primacy of class.

The movie is about a woman, Sandra, played by Marion Cotillard, who is on leave from her factory job (I know, I know...as I said to my friend, "What kind of factory is this? A babe factory?!") (it turns out to be a factory making solar panels), because of her depression.  In her absence, the company finds that they can get the work done with one less body, as business is decreasing due to cheaper solar panels from...wait for it...you guessed it...China.  They take a vote, and her colleagues choose to eliminate her position so that they can split her wage in the form of a bonus instead.  Discovering this information on Friday, Sandra scrambles and the foreman agrees to re-take the vote on Monday.  The malaise of her depression threatens to make Sandra submit to her proscribed fate, but at her husband's urging, she spends the weekend methodically contacting each of her colleagues to convince them to change their vote.

This kind of story, where, as Junot Diaz says the "meta" or the "machinery" is hidden, is totally up my alley.  Sandra's depression standing in for the malaise of the prototypical factory worker under capitalism is an incredibly apt device. The "choice" her fellow workers are given, to prioritize their own material circumstances over hers, is one that capitalism asks of us, on a near-constant basis.  In fact, that choice might be intrinsic to the very construction of right-leaning capitalism.  The conflation of capitalism with democracy (the individual "vote" as the foundation for our subjectivity) is also bang-on.  As the film progresses, we meet her colleagues and understand why some of them made the choice that they did.  Some succumbed to group-think; some are seemingly amoral; some were able to make the choice in her absence, when she was an abstract construct versus when she stands before them in her subjectivity; many are in dire financial straits and the bonus is necessary - they too face difficult day-to-day choices - the Dardenne brothers understand and deftly illustrate the difficult decisions we face under this system.

Many agree to change their votes and when the final vote comes, we see Sandra emerge from her depression, smiling, proud of the "good work" she put in with her husband.  I'm not going to spoil the outcome of the vote, but the film is so smart - by actively taking a hand in her direct material reality, by taking up her agency, she is emboldened and alive.  In those two days and one night, her labour was her own.

Guys, I'm getting goosebumps just  thinking about that.  I love the power and clarity of that metaphor.  I like how tight the story is.  I love how effective the film is.

Shortly after that, the Dotytron and I went to see Zizek speak at the TIFF theatre, as part of this conference that York U (of course!) put on, called Coming to Terms With Film-Philosophy.  Not for nothing guys, but York U conferences are THE S**T.  This is who I've seen courtesy of York University: Jean Baudrillard, Gayatri Spivak, Susan Sontag, and now Zizek.  U of T has given me Bruno Latour, which was cool...but C'MON.  Zizek is a Lacanian Marxist...and well, you know how I am about such things.  I AM HERE FOR IT.  He gave this long, rambling, stream-of-consciousness, very Zizek-ian talk on film that talked about "capitalischm" (as he pronounces it) directly and indirectly.  He talked about Children of Men, a favorite of his and mine, and how he loves it because it is not about sexual productivity, there is no romance, and he lampooned the Michael Caine character for being the ideal of an aging, bourgeois, white, hippie liberal...and well, you should ALSO know how I save my most special disdain for white bourgeois liberals.  He talked about how his nightmare would be a world in which freedom is found through collectivist, democratic action.  How he would hate nothing more than to be forced to vote on everything all the time, like in a co-op, and how his dream scenario would be a world in which an invisible state apparatus took care of those mundane decisions and allowed him the time to do what he does best: write, talk, think, explore things at his leisure.

It was as you would expect a Zizek talk to be.  A little difficult to find the thread, but full of bon mots that speak to me and my praxis.

Finally, you might have noticed that I've been sour on white people lately.  I mean, I've been sour on white people (not individual white people, but white people, The Franchise...does that even have to be said?  If it does...I mean, I probably can't help you and you should likely be reading something else?) probably my whole life, but I've become more vocal about it of late.  It feels good.  There is nothing I love more than the groundswell that is destabilizing and decentering white, heteronormative hegemony.  It feels GOOD.  Let me tell you why it feels good.

Because, now, yt pipo are finally getting a taste of what it feels like to be EVERYONE ELSE, for a hot minute.  To know, however fleetingly, what it feels like to grow up as the child of immigrants, to have people stumble over your "weird" name, to feel a little uncertain that everyone doesn't celebrate Christmas, or camp, or get birthday parties, or know how to skate, or give a flying F**K about the Tragically Hip or whatever.  To know what it feels like to have your existence questioned.  Back to Junot Diaz (and have you listened to that talk yet?  If not, you should!  You really, really should), I'm glad that white people are getting a taste of their own medicine.  "I am white and therefore I am human.  You are not white and therefore I'm not sure that you are human."  To have your existence questioned.  To know the burden of POC who have to know about stupid Franchise s**t AND their own cultural idiosyncrasies at the same time.  

I spent the bulk of my life feeling like not the norm.  In retrospect, that was a gift and has made me who I am, but when I didn't think I could be attractive, when I didn't think I was seen...it was hard, man.  Ultimately, those experiences allowed me to cultivate the perspicacity that allows me to revel in the weird and the stuff that's a little outside the norm.  That makes my friends the very best people in the world.  That allows me to find my kindred spirits and love them for their ability to know what it's like to not be that.  

It's just good for the Franchise to get a taste of its own medicine, ya know?  

Basically what I'm saying is: I never need to see a white kid dabbing.  It's gross.  Please stop.

P.S. Lots of catch-up writing happening this week at the cottage!  Keep scrolling because I'm hoping to have a lot of new content up.

Fin.

The Work of Hegemony and Other Thoughts

My head, my heart.

Last week I went to see Sunil Yapa (an author I wasn't previously aware of) interview Junot Diaz, as part of PEN Canada's Ideas in Dialogue series (? Actually not sure if this is a series).  The talk was called "Mind the Gap: Crossing Imaginary Lines" and it was pitched as a talk about diaspora, globalization, reading as a radical act of empathy, and writing as resistance...which I mean, OBVIOUSLY DID YOU PUT ALL OF "MY" CALLING CARD WORDS AND PUT THEM INTO A BLENDER TO MAKE A WOKE SHAKE FOR ME TO DRINK OR WHAT?!?

I invited my new friend N, and was all like, "Have you ever read any Junot Diaz?" and she's like, "Um, yeah, obviously.  His stuff is catnip for woke POC."  And I was like, "ummm, yes, I know exactly what you're talking about,"  but I clearly didn't and have never read his stuff, but I am now!

Anyway, we went last week and we walked in and she kind of drew in a breath because he was RIGHT THERE and of course I was so clueless I thought N was impressed that the Blum Appel salon had a bar set up and sells drinks, because I had no idea what Junot Diaz looked like, or how awesome he would turn out to be.

The talk was INCREDIBLE.  I came away and my mind was blown.  As a woman of colour, as a feminist, as a terrible writer, as a reader.  I will post it for you and you will watch it and you will hopefully be as inspired as I was.  It was one of those talks where I was so spun up after I had to wander around a bit because my mind was jittery with all the things said.  I biked home and didn't remember my trip at all because I was so in my head and I came home, went down to the basement, and removed my bra and idea-barfed all over the Dotytron because I needed to get it out of me.

There's an old Funkmaster Flex mix from the early aughts where throughout the mix he would jump on the mic and trigger a million bomb-explosion sounds and it was the most exuberant, amazing mix of life.  Every time Junot Diaz would say something I would hear one of those bomb-explosion sounds in my head.  My mind = blown.

He talked about hegemony, and how people of colour, women, poor people take on the "work" of policing ourselves in the service of hegemony.  Hegemony would not function without us willingly taking on that work.  There is so much of that work to do.  MIND=BLOWN.  How colonialism is predicated on the idea of "I am white, therefore I am human.  You are not white, I am not sure that you are human."  MIND=BLOWN.  How as a writer, he doesn't write for other writers but for readers.  Because readers are a more forgiving audience.  He said that other writers are not giving and supportive or want you to succeed in the same way readers do.  He talked about how he bore witness to his mother's almost predatory ownership of his sisters' body and didn't recognize that privilege until much later in life.  He talked about family.  About hanging out with activists.  He answered amazing, brilliant, thoughtful questions (which, as you all should know, NEVER HAPPENS) from the audience.  One woman asked him a two part question and the first part was: "Have you watched Lemonade."  LOL!  Then she asked him what he thought of it.  He was so funny.  He said he knew better than to mess with the Bey-hive.  He also said that there are people who would critique this piece because it is a tool to make millions of dollars.  He said that POC have a long history of inserting our narratives into objects designed to make millions of dollars.  He also reminded the audience that not too long ago, all we would have wanted is the opportunity for a black woman to make millions of dollars with her art.  MIND=BLOWN.  He talked about how Lemonade was distributed on a medium (HBO) that traditionally has not been very kind or mindful of people of colour.  He said to be wary of white liberals, who like to say they support POC but frequently don't want to have anything to do with actual POC.  He talked about how for him, it's easier to disguise the meta and the meaning in the writing, to hide the big picture ideas/thesis, then it is to go back and put the meta and the meaning in.  MIND=BLOWN.

It was pure fire.

One of the things I came away with, based on the idea of hiding the meta/meaning/thesis, was to make an effort to be a bit more intentional in my writing.  I'm working on a project currently (it's in the very, very nascent stages), and I started it just writing. Getting stuff down on the page.  It was a challenge getting into the groove of writing fiction again, and I'm clearly rusty, but it came back, though a little creaky.  What I realized is that I should have a goal for each scene, to avoid the automatic writing trap - where you just write for 30 minutes or an hour and you end up with a few pages that might have some killer metaphors and the roots of a character, but strung together don't really go anywhere.  I'm going to try that approach and see if it works.  If the next time I sit down to work on the project I start by saying, I want this scene to tell me something about the protagonist's family, friendship with X, how she feels about herself.  What's the big picture thing I want the reader to take away from this scene, and then write my way around it.  Hiding it if you will.  It was a total breakthrough moment.  I'm not sure if I'll be able to take that away and operationalize it, but I'm certainly going to try.

I haven't seen Lemonade yet, but I've certainly seen the output of the cottage industry that functions around all things Bey.  Of course, that meant that I came across Warsan Shire and her beautiful work that gave structure to much of the Lemonade movie (I refuse to call it the visual album).  You can hear her work on the her Bandcamp here.  It is incredible. I love her voice and how she speaks her own words.  I can't get enough.

This actually dovetailed neatly with a recent realization that poetry is still an art form.  I was wondering - do kids even read poetry anymore?  SHOULDN'T THEY?  I have Ocean Vuong's Night Sky With Exit Wounds on my list of to-reads. I want Lolly to read it with me.  I think I'm too out of practice with poetry to go in alone.  But maybe that's my own bias and insecurities talking?  I should be able to go it alone, yes?

I'm obviously going to add some Junot Diaz to my reading list, because he is officially catnip for THIS particular woke (sometimes?) POC.

Fin.