Posted on in 52essays2017, movies

One Day at a Time

For my second essay in the 52 essays in 2017 challenge, I had a different theme planned. I was going to review a PBS show that is about to start, Victoria. I had the chance to catch a free viewing a while ago and I was planning on looking all On Board with my life by reviewing it. But then another show came along and it has me so excited, I decided to pull the Victoria review until later and focus on this show instead.

So what is this exciting show that I love so much?

One Day at a Time.

Old people like me will know that this new Netflix show is a reboot of an old 70s/80s show. In the original, a single working class mom gets a divorce and winds up in a teeny apartment taking care of her two daughters while working to stay afloat. It started Bonnie Franklin and many of you may remember that one of her younger daughters was played by Valerie Bertinelli (who was hot and one of my first crushes ever).

The new show follows the same structure, a single working class mom with two kids is working to stay afloat after a painful separation (not yet finalized with divorce). But new show also adds in new elements, like the family it’s focusing on has a son (instead of the two daughters of the original) and the grandma lives with the family. The mother is a military vet- oh, and the family is also Cuban American.

While I am not usually a fan of sitcoms, I can get drawn into them, usually through my children. They start watching the show and I sort of pay attention while I’m doing other things and eventually I start watching and enjoying the show as much as they do. This has happened with mixed success-I loved Parks and Rec and consider it one of my all time favorite shows. But I find  How I Met Your Mother to obnoxious. And I despise (and have even banned) The Office (US version).

One Day at a Time reboot got me interested not through my kids but through nostalgia. I did find a lot in the original series that I really identified with, also being in a working class family, and yes, there was very much a Bertinelli factor, so I wanted to see what they’d do (or how’d they mess up) with a program of my youth. What does a working class family look like today compared to in the past?

Turns out that answer is complicated.

Because while it’s made clear in this series that being a single mom is economically difficult and even stifling (like when single mom, Penelope, played by Justina Machado, finds out that her employer is paying her less than a male co-worker that started after her and quits, the first thing on her mind is the consequences her family will face because she stood up for herself), the family’s economic struggles are also not what the show is predominately or even partially about.

No, this show is the of the old school classic sitcom era. Episodes exist less to to tell an individual story about an individual character (think: ‘focus episodes’ in the Walking Dead that feature storyline for one single character), and more to contemplate an issue together as an audience through the series characters. What should parents do when their children are caught viewing porn? What do we think about immigration once there’s an individual face on the issue? How do we really feel about those Che Guevara t-shirts?

As a Chicana (US born of Mexican descent), I was a little put off at first by the focus on a Cuban American family. Cuban Americans are notorious in the Latino community (however it is defined) for being more conservative than other Latinos. They get special rights of immigration that other Latinos don’t (if they set foot on US soil, they are fast tracked for legal status, usually achieving it within a year) and earlier generations of Cuban immigrants generally were very wealthy anti-Castro/communism. They got their special relationship with the US based on agreement with US policy, whereas many other Latino groups (like Chican@s/Mexicans) have specific disagreements with US policy and are so considered criminals.

But as another person watching the series with me pointed out, the choice to focus on Cuban Americans may have made sense simply because that way there could be a more obvious and natural ‘face’ on the conservative viewpoint (think: All In the Family). In other words, there’s a legitimate reason many Cubans are conservative, whereas Chicanos are almost defined by their leftist stances. To try to make a Chicano conservative wouldn’t work just wouldn’t work the way it does with Cuban/Cuban Americans that have actual conservative community.

So I decided to keep an open mind and recognize that for all my bias, I actually know very little about Cuba but have always wanted to know more. This provided a perfect opportunity for me to learn.

But for anybody who may be looking for a detailed explanation of Cuban American stances on the Cuban/US political relationship or Cuban history, you’re not going to get it through this show. And that’s a shame because there were several opportunities to get into a discussion. For example, when the family’s white landlord, Schneider (played by Todd Grinnell), visits while wearing a Che Guevara t-shirt, the whole family yells at him about what a murderer Guevara was and that he shouldn’t be wearing anything with Che on it at all. But then the subject is dropped. I got that Cuban/Cuban Americans have specific reasons for disliking Guevara, but outside of calling him a murderer there was no explanation as to why Cuban/Cuban Americans specifically dislike him, or why other Latinos found him compelling enough to make him their leader or even what Cuban/Cuban Americans think of other Latinos that even worship him. While of course I would’ve preferred a break in the show to watch a documentary (haha) or a reference to particular books as we saw in Luke Cage, at the very least, it would’ve been nice to see the Che Guevara t-shirt convo happening with another Latino. We didn’t get that, and it was a disappointment.

But even as there are no broad or deep analysis of Cuban/American policy or history in One Day at a Time, there are many many more ‘general Latino’ situations/critiques that are dealt with in hilarious, compelling and surprisingly touching  ways that make excellent T.V.

Take Elena’s (the older daughter, played by the effervescent Isabella Gomez) Quinceañera. This celebration of a girl’s ‘coming of age’ (which happens when she turns 15), is the storyline that threads thru the entire series, and is reportedly based on the experiences of show producer and writer, Gloria Calderon Kellett. The Quinceañera is an increasingly conflicted space in Latino communities and households, often pitting traditional elders against younger generations that are farther away from the full investment in the Catholic Church that their elders are. At the same time, many decry the monetization of what is essentially a religious ceremony and others wonder why only girls get this ceremony. Many are also creeped out by the prospect of calling 15 yr old girls ‘women,’ especially within cultures that often see those girls married off in their teens.

All of these subjects are elegantly and humorously covered in One Day at a Time. But perhaps most bravely, the show dared to imagine what a Quinceañera might look like or mean to a young girl who bristles under the stifling constraints of ‘womanhood’ defined by a Quinceañera. What does it mean to ‘become a woman’ when you don’t like dresses and are maybe a raging feminist? What does it mean to ‘become a woman’ (and so, according to the church, able to marry, bear children, etc) and you are a lesbian? Or maybe not? Because you’re still only 15 and just not sure where your life will take you or what you’re meant to be?

I’ll not spoil the way the Quinceañera story wraps up, but I will say that for all the Queer Love that Netflix’s Sense8 gets, I found One Day at a Time‘s storyline to be far more touching and lovely and even better storytelling in many ways.

The standout of One Day at a Time is Rita Moreno, cast as the family’s matriarch, Lydia. That I know of, she is the first older Latina on TV since George Lopez’s mom in his show. And she doesn’t disappoint. Abuelita Lydia is sexy, sexual, funny, conservative, and an immigrant. She is definite in her ideas (see: the ongoing lipstick joke) but at the same time, willing to find ways within her conservative beliefs to still love her family and be there for people who need her. She feels that immigrants should go thru the system and ‘be legal’ as she did. But she also experienced enough trauma in her own legal immigration experience that when Elena’s US born friend with an immigrant family needs help, she shows compassion. And Moreno’s storyline with Elena on the subject of makeup is one of the most touching storylines I’ve seen on any show in a long time.

If over the top humor is your thing, One Day at a Time doesn’t fail you. Penelope gets put in many of these situations, including one that sees her stuck in a doggie door. Machado plays the different situations well and always manages to stop just short of getting hysterical or out of control–but at the same time, I found these over the top situations to be the weak point of the show. It’s not that I have a problem with slapstick humor, it’s more that I don’t believe that there’s any likely situation in the world that would see any mother stuck in a doggie door. For slapstick over the top humor to work for me, it needs to be grounded in reality, like when Roseanne and Dan throw their furniture out on the front lawn. While it seems unlikely that something like that would happen, it is very funny to think about all the times in your life it could’ve happened. And of course, there’s always a few people here and there where it did happen. That’s what makes it funny. Situations like the doggie door or over the top characters like Schneider just don’t make sense to me. Why waste your time on a character or a situation that would never exist in real life? But having said that, I do recognize that some people like over the top humor exactly because it’d never happen in real life–so if that’s you, this series has that for you!

But even as I have mixed feelings about sitcom humor, One Day at a Time, for whatever weak points it may have, always comes back to the compassion and love of family. And it was during the times when Penelope and Lydia were fighting about taking the kids to church or Elena was worrying about how to come out that I found myself remembering the classic era of situation comedies when families (even my very messed up often violent family) would use the situations on particular shows to start conversations within their own families. What would you do if that was happening to you? What would I do in that situation? One Day at a Time invites us all to reflect from a position of compassion and love, even when somebody is doing something we don’t agree with.

The greatest honor to me was when my kids saw what Penelope did in the final scenes in the final show, and they turned me and said, ‘We know you’d do that too, Mami.’ Everybody knew that the situation and person that caused Penelope to have to do what she did was wrong, and the series doesn’t look away from that pain. But it focuses on the love. It focuses on the best in us, the stuff that has been there all along.

There’s a lot to be said about representation and finally seeing a Latino family sitcom. It allows us to imagine a new world, one that is defined by diversity of thinking and people–and that is important. But more so, shows like this also reflect to the world what is already here. And loving, political, kind Latino families are already here. We’ve been around for generations, laughing, crying, making mistakes, and surviving anyway just like everybody else.

A welcome reminder as we move into 2017.

 

 

 

Posted on in (re)birth

Resolved

At the beginning of the year you hear it the most.

Just do it! Change your life! Change yourself! Now is the time!

All of the platitudes that are supposed to get inspire you to get off your butt and be the full human being you’ve always wanted to be. You hear it the most at the beginning of the year, but it’s with us always. Boostrapping our way to everything from financial freedom to thinness to a great job.

Just do it (yourself). (Why aren’t you) just doing it?

I took this picture the day of Winter Solstice 2016. There is a farm close to me that has buffalo and I knew when I left the house that day that I wanted to take a picture of the buffalo for Solstice. I imagined a hard core picture of a herd of buffalo charging up the small hill in their grazing area. Or maybe a picture of one of them swinging its powerful head back and forth, sweeping aside snow and debris to get at the food underneath. Something that would ‘inspire’ me, and prop me up on bad days.

What I didn’t imagine was this picture I got. An unsure buffalo standing in front of an open fence, unable to decide what she’s going to do. Go through the fence? Turn around and walk the other way? Lay down and do nothing?

I didn’t notice her at first, I was busy focusing my camera in on the groups of buffalo walking around the field. Sometimes they take off running and the thunderous sound of hooves digging into the ground and the surprisingly quick speed in which they run is a sight to behold. But after it became apparent there would be no running on that day, I shifted my camera’s focus onto the groups of grazing buffalo. Looking for maybe a ‘mother/baby’ combo or even just friendly looking buffalo buddies sharing some food. It was when one of the buffalos I was focusing on turned and walked through the fence gate that my camera finally passed this anxious buffalo, this one that couldn’t make up her mind.

And that she couldn’t make up her mind was obvious, as was her stress.  Her head swung back and forth, not as I had seen other buffalo do, powerfully, low to the ground, with intention–but as if looking around for friends. I have a few shots of her looking directly at me and then a few more shots of her head in the opposite direction. Her body doesn’t move or shift in anyway in any of the pictures.

And she always went back to the staring at what was right in front of her. The open fence door. With something on the other side that she couldn’t get to. Even if she wanted to.

I wondered if the fences had electric currents and she had been shocked at some point. Or if she was just pausing for some reason only known to buffalos. Or if maybe she was younger than other buffalo in the area (she is significantly smaller than the others) and just didn’t know what to do with this big fence in front of her.

For whatever reason, she wasn’t ‘just doing it.’

And that’s the reason I finally snapped this particular picture and decided to post it.

Because it was the first time it really ever occurred to me: what does it take to walk through the fence? What does it take? Oh, I know all about structural and systemic inequality that prevents so many people from doing things like going to college or getting that amazing job we’re all supposed to be shooting for. Or getting that book published that we’re all supposed to just be ‘doing’ ourselves.

But when I saw this buffalo in front of the fence and started thinking about my own life and how I have lived 4 decades with an undiagnosed autoimmune disease, how just getting out of bed somedays has been nearly impossible, some times only able to accomplish it through extreme self-bullying (get up, what the fuck is wrong with you? MOVE NOW YOU LAZY SHIT!), and how I’ve been told for about 20 years that if I just lost weight–if I just ‘did it,’ I’d feel better…How many times and in how many ways have I hurt myself in order to force my body to do what others decided it needed to do? How long have I been holding on for dear life, wanting desperately to walk through the fence (Get up and exercise so you lose weight and feel better! Get up and cook dinner so you lose weight and feel better! Get up and take a shower so you want to lose weight and feel better!), but just not being able to?

How terrifying has that fence become to me after all this time?

I’ve been stuck in the same field all my life, and have had everybody from parents to doctors to myself try to force me through the fence without ever once considering that the reason I wasn’t moving wasn’t something I could control. Absolutely because of structural system inequality: not being able to afford a gym membership, not having safe enough streets to exercise on for awhile, not having childcare help.

But also because of just being different and needing different things to get through the fence. Needing a proper diagnosis. Needing time in the day not devoted to surviving work. Needing explanations about my body and the way it works. Needing a different set of goals, my own goals. Needing to learn how to even imagine outside of the box of ‘survival.’ Needing gentleness and support. Needing to know how to do gentleness and support.

We’re all sitting in our own field with our own fences that we haven’t been able to figure out how to get through. Have you ever been shown what it takes? Has anybody ever shown you how to walk through the fence in a way that won’t hurt you? Have you been shown repeatedly that walking through the fence comes with physical and emotional violence? Have you been beaten for being different, for wanting to be different? Or have you lived in a world that is so closed down, so narrow, that you’ve never even been allowed to imagine that walking through the fence is a possibility?

In the book, When the Body Says No, Dr. Gabor Mate discusses the stress of never being in control of your own life can lead to the type of chronic stress that can cause ill health and death. No wonder we all sit in front of our fences, panic attacks in one hand and reluctance in the other, heads swinging back and forth, desperately looking for a way to not have to deal with it.

We’re told relentlessly to ‘just do it.’ We want desperately to just do it. We learn how to beat ourselves, assault ourselves, self medicate ourselves, for not having any idea what to do with the massive fence in front of us, keeping us from dreams we never knew we were allowed to dream.

Dr. Mate suggests that a helpful way to challenge the way we have learned to talk to ourselves is to ask if we would talk to a loved one the way we talk to ourselves. So I ask myself, would you beat this buffalo? Would you see how powerful she is, and know that she can do it–and so decide all she needs is a good zap in the butt? Or maybe a fist to the face? Or maybe you could just scream at her, just do it, just goddamn do it you lazy sack of shit! You’re a buffalo! You’re more powerful than any other creature here! What is wrong with you??

Why won’t you just do it?

Thank god I was raised with love and respect for buffalo, with a sense of kinship with buffalo. Otherwise I might not be able to answer completely and honestly–no. I would never ever treat any buffalo as I do myself. I’d work with the buffalo on their own terms in ways that they needed to get them to trust walking through the fence. In best case scenario, I’d make sure they weren’t fenced in anywhere. I take the fence completely out of the equation. Because I know their natures are not that of farm animals. Because I love them and feel kinship with them.

What do I feel for myself that I won’t do the same thing for me?

As I have spent more time reflecting. I’ve come to realize that deciding whether or not to go through any symbolic or metaphorical or even very real fence is not the question. It’s recognizing how very little so many of us have been prepared to walk through any fence on our own terms and in our own way–indeed, how many of us have been traumatized or violated for even trying.

And so this year, I resolve. I won’t scream at myself JUST DO IT, WHY AREN’T YOU DOING IT!?!? I won’t beat myself when I fail again. I won’t self-medicate with abuse and shaming.

This year, I will instead with compassion and love, sit with myself and mourn, cry, educate, and love the buffalo that was never helped until this point.

What is wrong with you?

What is wrong with you?

The truth is, nothing is wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with me.

It’s ok to be sick, to be hurting, to not know. It’s ok. We’re all doing the very best that we can. And that is good enough.

We’ll get to that fence on our own time in our own ways, once we’re ready, hopefully. For now–rest. Fists down. And rest.

In prayer:

May we all be safe. May we all find peace. May we all be free.

And then decide. Not to go through the fence. But how to be kind to ourselves as we learn, as we breath, as we live. How to show compassion to ourselves. How to be gentle.

Let’s begin with compassion.

And because I have learned that self-compassion is a skill that can be learned, that I am teaching myself, I share with you the resources that have taught me:

Self-Compassion with Dr. Kristen Neff
The mindful path to self-compassion
The Gifts of Imperfection

 

 

Posted on in (re)birth, 40 days, blogging

loving in the war years: when it all falls apart

in the middle of mourning, news came that a family member has stage four cancer. and that it had spread, far and wide.

and everything just stopped. work, laughter, joy, mourning. grey overcast rolled over life and i couldn’t move.

i lost a dear friend to breast cancer. a different family member was throwing up blood, but guilt and shame over an addiction made him assume the blood was caused by the addiction. it was cancer. another family member died a long slow painful death from a cancer nobody had ever heard of.

and now here we are again.

not only is there the pain of a loved one being ill, but there’s that Death guy again, staring at me straight in my face. challenging me. he’s not going away. in fact, he just keeps getting closer and closer. i can’t avoid him, i can’t pretend he doesn’t exist. not anymore.

what is my relationship with death? what am i going to do about the fact that i’m going to die at some point?

i’ve written and contemplated a lot about death. as a kid, i was terrified of ‘not being’ anymore, and so the dying part terrified me. the moment when you switch from being alive to being dead. but now i am older and i’ve experienced death of loved ones and meditated with death and written stories about it…and i’m less afraid of not existing. and utterly terrified of not ‘being alive’ before i no longer exist.

a person i follow on twitter asked the question, what do you hope to be doing in 5 years? it’s a great question, one that i have long struggled to answer. but it’s also a question that she asked right around the time we were finding out about this family member. and so the question was not one that lead to joyful answers or determination. it lead to the worst case of nihilism i think i’ve ever had. and boy, let me tell you, i can do nihilism hard core.

what is the point of being alive? what’s the point of any of this? why are we here? what intention did god or the universe or whatever created this planet and humans have for any of us?

these are not new questions, these are questions that have hounded and terrorized most of humanity for the entirety of its existence. but as i sit here, a middle aged person that is about the same age as so many of the others i’ve known who have died, i wonder why am i here and not them. why do kids in war torn regions get killed and not me? what decided which hundreds of thousands of people would be killed when the atomic bombs were dropped and which wouldn’t?

is there a god or a universal law that decides these things? and if so, what is the criteria? what was the deciding factor that let the mother be killed but not the baby that is left suckling at her breast?

the randomness, the lack of rules. there is no way to assure ourselves that we will die in our sleep at a very old age. it is discombobulating. but it is terrifying to think that the lives of the people who are killed by wars, who die from cancer, who are hit by cars (as my dear friend was), who’ve ‘reached their time’–have no meaning. that it doesn’t matter what they did or accomplished in their five year time line or what they checked off their bucket list or what they did that morning or what they wanted to do that evening…it is terrifying to think that there is no meaning to the lives they lived. that there is no meaning to my life.

that we’re all here on earth just waiting for the moment until we die.

i’ve always thought that i was put on this earth to be the greatest and best me that god intended me to be. but i don’t know anymore. i could’ve been at the bar in florida that was shot up. I could’ve been the driver on I-94 that was smeared across the pavement. i could’ve been the one who was told the cancer was back and it spread. everywhere.

that i’m not the one who died yesterday doesn’t give meaning to my life today. or does it? should it?what is the point of doing this, of doing life?

what happens if i die, and i’ve never done all that i wanted to do? or i’ve never dreamed as greatly as god intended me to dream?

i am blanketed by grey immobilizing hopelessness, while a blistering fire of desperation burns in my guts. there is no hope. but there’s so little time. i must get a bucket list, i must get that job i always wanted, i must win the lottery, i must i must i must i must…

i will eventually be the one that death doesn’t walk away from. what do i do until then?

i don’t move. i haven’t moved. i snarl and hiss at my partner and wearily cart children to school and dutifully wait for them seven hours later. rote life. rote living. terrorized by death.

what am i going to do? what is any of us going to do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on in (re)birth, 40 days, loving in the war years

loving in the war years: day twenty eight

Coming Back To Life: Healing Through Crisis With Ritual + Action

A creative parent holds space for a child to explore, be creative, test boundaries, let their imagination run wild, experience different personalities, ideas and roles. A great parent doesn’t control or shut down. This is the same when dealing with your inner-child. Allow yourself explore and experience life, empower yourself to make the right choices and live life in your own way. Be an innovative parent to your inner child: loving yourself when you’re sick, being encouraging when you fall over, and always cheering yourself on.

read more…

Posted on in (re)birth, 40 days, loving in the war years

loving in the war years: day twenty seven

Feeling Grief + Dreaming Another World

“Philandro Castille. I honor your life by releasing this grief to go home. I release this heaviness in my heart so I can be an active part of creating a new world”

“To the people of Nice. I honor your lives by releasing this grief to go home. I release this heaviness in my heart so I can be an active part of creating a new world”

“ For the non-human communities who are devastated by strip-mining… For the three officers who were killed in Baton Rouge… For anyone who preaches hate and division… I honor your lives [or the lives that have been affected by your wounds] by releasing this grief to go home. I release this heaviness in my heart so I can be an active part of creating a new world ”

read more…

Posted on in (re)birth, 40 days, loving in the war years

loving in the war years: day twenty six

the following quote comes from a really great blog post about nourishing self with food during times of mourning. it has a good recipe for bone broth that i highly recommend–with a few caveats. while this author is probably correct that bone broth should be made from organically grown animals, i also know that organic meat that’s connected to the organic bones can be and is often extremely expensive. sometimes you can get lucky and find just the bones without the meat, but even those can be super expensive. whole foods knows there’s a bone broth phenomenon going on right now.

my suggestion is to buy the ‘tough’ cuts of organic meat with bones in–because they’re not ‘prime’ meat they’re often quite a bit less expensive. you can also ask for bones, on the off chance you have access to a butcher (but as i said this often can be just as expensive depending on where you go). also, don’t forget that buying already made organic broth in a box is totally a choice. of course it feels good to buy things fresh and make it yourself–but, sometimes self care comes in the form of being able to pull a lid off a $2.99 container and heat up contents in microwave. you get the benefits of self care, self nourishment, and calming soup all for much less expense and much less work.

anyway. check out this excerpt:

Sorrow and mourning can take many forms, as death and loss can come in so many different guises. Sometimes it isn’t the physical death of a loved one that we mourn, but the end of something we cherished. The loss of a job, or a friendship, or an intimate relationship, or even a lost pet. So many experiences tear holes into us, and we have to practice a fair bit of self care in order to heal those wounds so they don’t grow and fester.

I’ve mentioned that one of the most nourishing foods I’ve come across yet is bone broth, as it isn’t just a soothing internal hug, but also replenishes a body right down to the cellular level. It can be used as the base for a heavier soup, or just enjoyed on its own by the mugful; something that I try to do as often as possible, especially during the autumn and winter months. Quite often, a cup of this broth first thing in the morning does more to wake me and replenish my spirits than half a dozen cups of coffee ever could.

read more