I just got done watching Season 3 of The Bear and Iām reminded of why I felt drawn to the show in the first place.
Carmy, the main character, is not who youād necessarily root for as heās known for his outbursts and being checked out in moments that heās needed the most. Still, he is a gifted chef and his family sees something in him as they continue to support him through his newest endeavor ā taking over his brotherās restaurant after he tragically committed suicide.
Even though he is clearly a talented and promising chef ā a lot of his techniques, traits, and trauma spill out in the kitchen, especiallyon his right hand chef Sydney, who sees Carmy as his mentor. Maybe he doesnāt realize it, but by the third season itās pretty clear to the viewer that Carmy hasnāt healed from his trauma and thus is affecting all the relationships arou
The final episode of Season 3 resonated with me the most. Maybe becaus it clicked in my head how similar the academic world feels to the culinary world and its network of chefs, restaurants, etc. Letās start with the scene ā itās the last night of Carmyās mentorās restaurant and all these chefs are gathered to honor the restaurant one last time. Seeing the banter between Will Poulterās character and another chef reminded me so much of over eager academics that ask their idols very specific questions about research methods, theories, specific people in their work etc etc (by the way, I am totally one of those people myself) Then when all the chefs were eating together and sharing their horror stories of working in the kitchen as well as their joys and moments of pride, very much reminds me of academia when weāre all at a conference and I hear these conversations at a banquet or in line at the registration table.
But I guess the scene that struck me the most was when Carmy confronts his old mentor, the one who verbally abused him day in and day out while Carmy was working in New York. That scene transported me back to the moments that Manang would rip me apart:
Dumb bitch.
You write like youāre in high school so Iām going to talk to you like youāre in high school.
Iām going to pay you what I think youāre worth.
Iām going to be harder on Abby because she has no excuse.
You stole this?
The whole interaction between Carmy and his ex-mentor is brutal. Carmy follows him while heās on his way to the restroom and when he finally gets a moment alone with him all he can really say is āIāve thought about what I would say to you if I ever saw you again.ā And when his ex-mentor asks to hear it, all Carmy can say is, āFuck you.ā First of all, the mentor doesnāt even remember Carmyās name (he calls him Bergatto instea of Berzatto) lmost mockingly before flat-out saying āI donāt think about you.ā Carmy pushes this further by blurting out that he got ulcers anddeveloped panic attacks as a result of his mentorās verbal abuse ā all to which his mentor says youāre welcome back becuse he made Carmy a better chef. Then he just walks awar, leaving Carmy in an elevated, distresses state.
So I ask myself, does trauma actually make you better!? Is it worth the ulcers and the panic attacks to get good!? Is that the only way it has to be? I thought about my own parallels with Chef Carmy, the ways that Iāve internalized the trauma I inherited from Manang, both through existing in this harmful world of academia. I think of the ways I snapped at Ading, the ways Iāve subconciously reinstilled the toxicity of a culture I never wanted to be a part o. The ways I think about Manang so often and probably, just like Carmyās mentor ā doesnāt think about me at all.
āI think about you more than I should, Carmy said.
In the land where hurt people hurt more people, fuck calling it culture.
Itās your job now. Donāt perpetuate pains and call it part of the culture. Fuck that shit.
Trauma doesnāt breed excellence. Trauma breeds trauma. And more trauma. And more trauma. Be better, Bugay.
