something less obvious

carrie is almost explicitly about the cycles of abuse. it is almost explicitly about how women and girls are taught to reproduce the patriarchy. it cannot be isolated from either message.

it shows cruel teenagers not as a random whacky plot point but instead to highlight that we are taught to mock other girls for not being fuckable; lest we ourselves be considered not-fuckable. we will eat our own kind to survive. nobody helps her because to help carrie would be to turn against the patriarchy.

carrie's mother has experienced abuse at the hands of her husband and religion not as a "sad backstory" but instead because it lampshades her behavior when she then turns and abuses her daughter while citing that same religion. we are forced to ask the question: what is the difference between the patriarchy and religion? aren't they both systems of control? we often see mothers as being the "ultimate" in innocence and kindness - but this book challenges that narrative. abusive mothers exist, and and always have. abusive women exist and always have. white women, after all, love voting for donald trump.

men are almost absent from the book, but their presence lingers. it feels almost like the red mark made after a slap - the men do not have to be there; the women will continue to abide by the rules without question. it is a devastating, haunting condemnation of the notion of feminine fragility. it accurately asserts that women are cruel, are capable, are power-hungry - and often are hiding behind perceived innocence to mask that cruelty. the abuse carrie experiences rests in a doubled betrayal: it is because of another woman. the supposed "sisterhood" is revealed to be thin, a guise of equanimity that is only offered to the "right" type of girl/woman.

many of us were not the right type of girl.

to go back on these main and obvious themes of the book - to rewrite the mother as some caring and sad creature is... a curious choice. i can't explain it, but it feels almost like censorship to me. it refuses a deeper meaning of the book (and one that questions the patriarchy) in favor of the incredibly thin plot of "what if scary girl had scary powers." i literally don't even know what level of misogyny it is that we have to defang everyone around her in order to tell her story. i'm baffled by it.

in the era of trad wives endlessly posting abusive content of their children online - the adaptation had plenty of meat to modernize her mother. in the era of AI and revenge porn and social media - there's a huge amount of space for a competent writer to play around in. after all, if the abuse is recorded and posted to media - and as the audience we're watching it without interfering - the story is now about us. it asks us who we are comfortable bullying.

it's okay if you feel like you don't have the writing chops to talk about how many religions are abusive and tacitly enable domestic violence. it's okay if you feel like you couldn't write a believable teenage bully. it's okay if you're just interested in "scary girl has scary powers."

Stories stall when everyone behaves. Real tension appears when someone:

• asks the wrong question • says something they shouldn’t • notices something uncomfortable • refuses to drop the topic • misunderstands something important • interrupts at the worst moment

It's extremely telling that they choose to do this, that they take her (groundbreaking and heartbreaking) depiction of a real life victim of enslavement, physical and sexual abuse, and shove it up as "oh you're telling me THIS is a beautiful woman?"

Not any of her beautiful modelling photos, not any other role she's been in. But one where she's being whipped.

What they're telling us is "this is all you deserve to play. This is what you get to be seen as. You being a slave, you being abused, is what's "accurate" for a Black woman. You don't get to be seen as valuable. You don't get to be beautiful, and certainly not the most beautiful woman in the world, not in MY world."

As if we haven't been on this planet the whole time, in every sort of role there is. As if the only thing that has ever been relevant about us is our abuse, that that is the imagery that defines us. And these people will swear that "they're not racist, it's just-", and get mad when you look their racism right in the eyeballs.

I don’t even know what to say, and I’m not sure if I’ll say it right, but I’m gonna try.

The Iliad isn’t real. The Odyssey isn’t real. The war may have happened, but the poems are mythology.

This is not me saying that they don’t matter, or hell forbid, “it’s not that deep”. I say this because mythology (especially Greek myth) uses symbolism.

There is no objective “most beautiful woman in the world.” If a woman considered that beautiful in Ancient Greek times existed nowadays, she’d be considered ugly by someone.

The most beautiful woman in the world looks different for everyone. But her being a Black woman is where anti-Black racists draw the line. It is honestly beyond repulsive.

And I know damn well those fuckheads wouldn’t let it have even a second of the time of day if the film was based on Kenyan/African mythology, because they wanna be able to project their standards and fantasies, and just can’t stand it when they don’t get that chance.

Black women deserve the chance to be seen as beautiful, blessed by the gods. As the best offering that a goddess could give. Better than becoming the king of Eurasia, better than wisdom/strategy in war.

Black women deserve to feel beautiful. Black women deserve to be seen as beautiful, and shown as beautiful to everyone.