#thevisibilityarchives

LGBTQIA+

Summary: 

Within the pristine confines of a white-picket-fence life, the perfection of Max’s world is shattered one fateful night. Handsome, charismatic, and intelligent, the Golden Boy of the Walker family finds himself facing the rippling consequences of that night and the revelation of a family secret that could undo not only him but the entire Walker family.

Full review: 

*Trigger Warning: This discussion contains mentions of sexual assault*

“Everyone has secrets. It’s just a matter of finding out what they are.” - Steig Larsson

The concept of the so-called “perfect family” harboring a scintillating secret that threatens to topple them from their gilded thrones is an alluring narrative. Everyone has their secrets, yet we demand to see what lurks behind the facade of those who pretend otherwise–even in a world that has evolved to demand the pretense of perfection at all times. 

Within the pages of Abigail Tarttelin’s Golden Boy, the Walkers begin as such a family. They are stereotypical WASP perfection, a white-picket vision that would make conservatives on both sides of the Atlantic jump with joy. 

Steve and Karen Walker are upper-class Brits, with Steve making an emerging run into politics and Karen serving as a successful barrister. Max, their firstborn, is a handsome, charismatic, intelligent, and athletic young man on the cusp of manhood–a Golden Boy in every sense of the word. He looks after and connects with his younger brother Daniel, who seems to have autism or ADHD and doesn’t receive the attention he needs from his parents.  

In all their dazzling perfection, it's natural the Walkers harbor a secret or two. Right off the bat, it’s revealed that Max, a walking Abercrombie & Fitch model is intersex. In the U.K., statistics show up to 1.1 million are estimated to belong to the community according to The University of Manchester.

That estimation must consider the way intersexuality is reported. Intersex people are defined as having anatomical sexual characteristics that may not necessarily align with the definition (or that fit multiple definitions) of male or female bodies. Because sex is assigned at birth, “it is very rare that the sex of a child is recorded as indeterminate or intersex at birth registration” (Office for National Statistics). Just like statistics on non-binary identities or sexual orientations, however, people can contribute to polling at other ages, thus giving estimates to the numbers in existence. 

There is a single person outside the sphere of Max’s family and medical team who is aware of his status as intersex: Hunter, a childhood friend. What began as the innocence of childhood baths together grows into an impending threat that Karen reminds him must be mitigated by staying in Hunter’s good graces. For the burden of Hunter’s secret is a source of shame, and the revelation of that shame could bring down the entire family. 

A drunken visit by Hunter one evening reveals that over the years, he has harbored a confusing mixture of feelings towards Max, and himself: confusion, attraction, shame, and anger all wrapped up in a bow of toxic masculinity. 

The result? A horrific scene in which Hunter lashes out, brutally sexually assaulting Max while he attempts to reconcile his sexual orientation and feelings by convincing himself what gender Max is–and isn’t. 

A UN study found that in instances of sexual assault experienced by LGBTQIA+ individuals, “sexual and gender minorities are mainly attacked because they defy gender stereotypes…high proportions of sexual and gender minorities experienced physical and sexual violence, motivated by perception of sexual orientation and gender identity.” (Blondeel et al, 2023).

Hunter demands to know why Max doesn’t exist along some sort of binary, and this question fuels his anger as it challenges his own twisted perceptions of masculinity, heterosexuality, and of course, the gender binary. 

Whether they are intersex, nonbinary, or bisexual, people who exist outside of society’s notions of either/or at some point have encountered difficult, or even hostile comments concerning the nature of their existence. To simply be in a world that operates along black-and-white lines despite the sheer complexity of our realities presents a challenge that evokes strong emotions in some. 

Like many heterosexual men who are survivors of sexual trauma, Max attempts to bury the incident, even as that night sets off a chain of events that can’t be ignored. He meets a girl that for the first time, he believes he wants to share himself with. He also can’t avoid the physical or mental toll that was taken on him that night, which seeps its way into just about every other facet of his life including his family. 

In a post #MeToo society, we’re remiss if we don’t acknowledge the realities of sexual violence on men. Part of the irony is that misogyny’s impacts have consequences on everyone including its perpetrators. While gay and trans men are sometimes referenced regarding survivor narratives, few straight men report sexual assault due to reasons ranging from demasculinization to psychological grooming when older women are involved. Reports have found over 10,000 men are assaulted in the military yearly, (more than women due to the repercussions, and lack of reporting). 

While the book can be brutal, horrific, and emotional, it's also a book that gives the opportunity to help heal. It’s a tale that presents space for learning, through the lens of empathy, love, and compassion. It’s not without its flaws of course, but Tarttelin takes us through the life of an individual whose narrative would otherwise be erased in this era of authoritarian conservative censorship bans. 

Taking journeys through a bitter journey of trauma, identity, and teenage love, Golden Boy also teaches us perhaps the most important lesson when it comes to our bodies: Max is the only one who has any meaningful autonomy over his anatomy or identity. It doesn’t matter who else’s hopes or desires matter–only his do, and when we consider non-cisgender bodies that should be one of our priorities. 

Golden Boy can be found here via its publisher, you can attempt to find it at your local bookstore or find it at your local library.

Citations: 

Network(s): SyFy, Amazon

Creators: James S.A. Corey

BIPOC

Summary: 200+ years in the future, humanity has ventured into the far reaches of the solar system, colonizing the Milky Way and spreading the political turmoil of Earth among the generations to come. A fragile peace exists among the three factions that arise, a peace that cannot last when something greater emerges that threatens them all, changing the course of humanity for all time to come. 

Full review: For every generation, there is a defining sci-fi television show that captivates audiences, tapping into visions of the near future while simultaneously managing to address modern sociopolitical themes and changing mores. 

Can The Expanse be ranked as one of those shows, among the likes of Star Trek, Firefly, and Battlestar Galactica? Undoubtedly, it’s a question deserving of consideration and debate.

In a time before streaming, the impact would be more obvious thanks to ever-present television ratings data, fights over family television screens, and demands for network advertising time. But when a show exists solely within the realm of the digital sphere, on a streaming service like Amazon Prime, there’s a bit more nuance to consider when judging its success and audience impact. 

Conceived by authors Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham under the pen name James S.A. Corey, The Expanse originally aired on the SyFy network in 2015, a high-budgeted adaptation of their book series that was well-received by critics and audiences alike until its early demise (due to said budget) at the end of its second season. With a bit of luck, the show was picked up by Amazon Prime studios, given the Jeff Bezos Budget, the TV-MA stamp of adultification freedom, and was renewed, allowing it to take off for the remaining four seasons which concluded in 2022. 

The series retains the core features beloved by sci-fi fans, the formula complicit in defining those generational sci-fi hits: space exploration, the imaginativeness of the near future, the role of politics, and perhaps a central and often missed detail – its diversity and multiculturalism. 

There is a sharp division between the science fiction and fantasy crowds when it comes to multicultural representation. Often, the two genres are clumped together, their metadata schema combined as one – sci-fi/fantasy. Yet within these two genres, the approach to racial and cultural diversity could not be more different. 

This reaction has never been more pronounced than in the past year, during the airing of Prime’s Rings of Power and HBO’s House of the Dragon. Both shows cast actors of color into roles wherein the networks, as well as actors themselves, received criticisms, not for their performances, but simply for the color of their skin.

Commenting upon reactions to Stephen Toussaint, who portrays Corlys Velaryon in House of the Dragon the LA Times reported

“Toussaint is just the latest actor of color to address the racism he faced just for being cast in a major property. Others include Moses Ingram of Disney+ series “Obi-Wan,” and Kelly Marie Tran and John Boyega who dealt with similar online abuse over their roles in the newer “Star Wars” films.”

The vitriol has extended beyond just message board gripes, with actors and fans of color alike receiving flooded inbox messages and even in-person harassment over their simple existence in various fandoms as people of color. 

There is something of an irony here. For fantasy, which is rooted mostly in imagination (with some inspiration from real-life events) seemingly has set up a world where all manner of monsters, magic, and scenarios can be envisioned: and yet a black elf, a brown knight, or an Asian queen magician cannot. Whereas sci-fi, often depicted within the confines of near-future scenarios, has historically been more flexible, even to the point of breaking immense taboos like The Kiss Seen Around the World on Star Trek, only a year after interracial marriage became legal in the United States. 

This emphasis on multiculturalism, combined with the glory of high-stakes drama, the exploration of the final frontier, and the imaginings of what technology still can be creates a formula that appeals across multiple generations still today, a tapestry of impossibility, variability, and sensibility. 

Over the course of six seasons, what begins as a hard-boiled detective seeking to return a trillionaire’s daughter who has joined up with a group of anarchists in the far-flung reaches of the solar system unfolds into a whirlwind of high-stakes political machinations, doomsday scenarios, and interpersonal drama. 

Keeping in touch with an examination of what upward trends of the future tell us, the lives of those depicted onscreen are flush with different types of diversity. Multiracialism is prominent in certain parts of the solar system, Creole dialects are a natural development. Polyamory, new ways of eating, body types,  and religious ideologies emerge. Unlike other media which often falls out of date quickly when looking at the way trends have aligned with the passage of time, The Expanse follows what thus-far seems to be a natural trajectory of what our path looks like (assuming we are still alive by then). Its actors range from Caucasian-American to Iranian, Samoan, Ojibwe, Cambodian, Black, multiracial, Jamaican, and ethnicities far and wide. 

The show is heavily rooted (and its source material, by extension) in the very definition of what multiculturalism is and can be, and a prime example of a thoughtful and true representation of all television sci-fi has given us and shows us is possible: a world in living color in which reality is possible, and no one can tell us otherwise. 

You can find hard copies of seasons 1-4 of The Expanse at major retailers, your local library,  some copies of seasons 5 and 6 via online sellers like eBay and stream it on its home, Amazon Prime here.

Citations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirk_and_Uhura%27s_kiss

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2022-08-22/dragons-being-more-plausible-than-a-rich-black-guy-irks-house-of-the-dragon-star

Disabled

With the premiere of House of the Dragon, HBO had its work cut out for it. Not only did it face direct competition from Amazon’s unprecedented Rings of Power –a monumental production of costly proportions with a five-season pre-order – it also had to contend with the reputation of its predecessor, Game of Thrones. GoT set a new bar for what a TV production could be, paving the way for RoP. More than that, its final season underperformed in a way not previously seen in a critically acclaimed television series.

Series finales are a tricky business. No matter how carefully handled, it seems that series with large fanbases are unlikely to come away with endings that fulfill the whims of everyone. Lost, Mad Men and The Sopranos saw notable complaints from fans regarding their endings. The GoT series finale proved a different monster with a critic's score of 55% on Rotten Tomatoes and an audience score even lower in the 30s. This was a notable fall from grace for a show consistently met with widespread acclaim for the bulk of its run until its tail end, in which its source content ran dry, and the creative reigns landed in the hands of two inexperienced showrunners.

For five consecutive seasons, the show stunned audiences, smashing streaming records and captivating audiences as it brought the high-fantasy tropes of dragons, battles, and strategized politics, to the late-night universe of corseted boobs, morally grey characters, and the darkest parts of humanity. 

Whereas Amazons Rings of Power could be enjoyed by most of the family, Game of Thrones was undoubtedly a series to watch after the children were put to bed, a welcome change for those who grew up playing D&D and then enjoying what Skinemax had to offer in the wee hours of the morning.

 Author George R.R. Martin’s writing of A Song of Ice and Fire (the series on which GoT is based) reflects the dynamism of our world, a complex tapestry in which nothing so simple as “good” prevails over “evil”. It is a world in which the “good” guy can die, the “bad” guy can be a knight in shining armor (or a powerful woman demolishing gender norms), and every expectation of conventional storytelling you have based on ratings can be upended. 

To date, research shows the greatest drawing point for both fans of Thrones and ASOIAF readers has been Martin’s writing of the characters themselves: a lush and seemingly endless array of diverse beings far beyond what high-fantasy readers were used to from 20th-century authors. 

A 2020 study for the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science of the USA analyzed the correlation between character arcs, deaths, and their relationships with readers. In this, the study found that the number of named characters within the series was nothing short of monumental, however, due to Martin’s habit of axing them off (pun intended), their deaths often occurred at the right time for the reader or watcher’s brain to develop a connection with a new character. Characters who were overall favorites (with rare exception) of course, tended not to die (Jon, Arya, Tyrion, etc.)

Other reasons many people tend to cite for their love of the series? It’s a realistic portrayal of morality, the inclusion of sexuality, a feasible depiction of racial diversity (there is work to be done yet on House of the Dragon, but that is a post for another time), war strategy, and for book readers, Martin’s well-written descriptions of food do often make for good home cookbooks. 

As a master of crafting personable characters who are complex and layered, with the capacity to be beloved and hated (looking at you Bobby B.), Martin introduced us to a new era of high fantasy writing that was bolder, brasher, and more suited to the 1990s and emerging millennium. With the passage of 30 years, perhaps faults can be forgiven then as we recognize the ways in which so few of his disabled characters achieve this masterful crafting, and question what excuse there is for House of the Dragon, and the creative liberties taken in its writing during the Era of Inclusion and Intimacy Coaching.

This essay will examine the way three particular characters fall into different stereotypes often bestowed upon the disabled community. Each character has been picked from a different part of the ASOIAF universe and as such may not be known to the reader: extra background will be given for context. 

              Larys Strong (House of the Dragon/Fire & Blood)

                                                   The Clubfoot

The first spinoff to land on HBO to much fanfare has been House of the Dragon, an adaptation of Fire & Blood, which retells the bloody civil war between two factions of the Targaryan clan which all but ripped apart Westeros some 167 years prior to the events of Game of Thrones.

For those completely unfamiliar with the narrative, the war is initiated when King Viserys I (for all intents and purposes the polar opposite of Daenerys’ brother), failing for years to produce a male heir, names his daughter Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne. Despite Viserys’ intentions, the power of the patriarchy rules from the shadows as everyone from his new wife (and daughter’s former best friend) to his advisors and those he formerly considered friends conspire to install his new (drunk and disorderly) son on the Iron Throne in Rhaenyra’s place.

Two separate factions arise. On Rhaenyra’s side The Blacks, composed of Rhaenyra, her children, her husband-uncle (Targaryans, remember) Daemon, their cousins the Valeryons, and a camp of other royal families. The Greens are led by Alicent Hightower (who has assumed her maiden name upon Viserys’ death more or less), her father and Hand of the King Otto Hightower), her son King Aegon II (who is a lot more like Dany’s brother), Helaena (think a goth Luna Lovegood), Aemond (if Annie from Attack on Titan was a guy), Ser Criston Cole (the head of the Kingsguard and Rhaenyra’s ex-beau with an obnoxious grudge), and Larys Strong. 

Larys is known by book readers by another name: Larys Clubfoot, and this is how he is visually introduced on the show, limping into the godswood the very picture of the scheming disabled villain who has graced many a James Bond film. 

CTEV or Clubfoot is a common deformity that in our modern world is of course rectified with earlier onset treatment. Larys walks with a cane and from the onset is presented in juxtaposition to his brother, Harwin Strong: a handsome and charming man who becomes an eventual illicit lover to Rhaenyra. Larys has no lovers the object of desire to none. In his introductory scene as he limps into the godswood he is something like a creature of prey to the young Alicent, approaching her with a proposal as he offers her help for a price of which the cost will not be apparent for some time to come. 

Larys becomes one of Alicent’s most important council members, brokering information for her as well as executing covert assassinations of her enemies. In Fire & Blood, nothing he does is seemingly with any purpose, his reasoning left only to the gods themselves. He is a man shrouded in mystery and given that the text is more of a biased history book than anything, this makes sense. 

The show, frustratingly, also seems to take this approach to its detriment, and this also contributes to limiting him as a character. Unlike Varys whose machinations were often contributed towards “the greater good” and Littlefinger who sought to manipulate his way to the top for his own sake, Larys’ scheming ambles towards extremes for little reason, and what reason we are provided sets him over the edge into the territory of a freak-show caricature rather than a well-rounded character. 

Feet. 

It’s feet. 

He’s doing it for Medieval feet pictures, or some version of them. The cost we were speculating on? The wolfish leers he teased Alicent with weren’t promises of something so simple as royal bastards he could manipulate her with, but a desire to simply gaze at her perfect arches while he touches himself and spills the secrets of her enemies. 

The choice of writing a character with a disfigured foot as having a foot fetish is such an alarming choice it borders incredulity, particularly given that it was clear so much discussion was considered about diversity, sexism, and sexual assault in the writer’s room. 

In almost all scenes Larys practically creeps in corners like an Andy Samberg Saturday Night Live skit. This is not to dismiss or perpetuate the oft-promoted idea that people with disabilities don’t have desires, kinks, or fetishes as detailed by speakers like Dr. Danielle Sheypuk and by sexual psychologist Dr. Justin Lehmiller. 

There is something obscenely disturbing however about an able-bodied man portraying a disfigured character with a fetish related to that disfigurement which for all intents and purposes drives him to commit heinous acts–patricide included–that takes his characterization from one of Martin’s carefully crafted portraits to a questionable caricature whose 21st century writing ultimately lay in the hands of people who should have known better. 

               Tyrion Lannister (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF)

                                                         The Imp

Ask people about their favorite character from Martin’s high fantasy epic, and undoubtedly Tyrion will come up among the top three. As of 2021, community polling site Ranker still lists the character as the top ranked based on live voting results.  Beloved among book readers and show viewers alike, his character stands to date as a marvel of modern writing, brought to life by none other than Peter Dinklage in a powerhouse performance for eight relentless seasons. 

There’s a lot to praise here. There’s the fact that Martin wrote such a poignant character with Dwarfism who stands as a point-of-view perspective and is popular enough to feel relatively safe from beheading all things considered. He is a man equal parts charming and pitiable, enviable and intelligent. Had he been born in a different body he would be granted a much different life, and it is his disability that serves as a barrier despite all the privileges the last name “Lannister” bestows on him (which is a lot). 

Through the richness of Martin’s writings, there seep flaws in his characterization notably absent from the television show, which depict what can only be described as the best sides of him. He is “prettied up” of course in the way all actors are in a Hollywood show, his rougher aesthetic smoothed away by the handsome presence of Dinklage. Other aspects of his behavior however make no appearance, from cruder actions that make him appear more morally dubious to Martin’s fixation on forcing him to perform odd tricks and feats like some Florida carnival act, to his almost-rape of Sansa and the murder of the character Marillion. 

“Waddling” is a word often used to describe Tyrion’s gait, his POV chapters packed with allusions to the stiffness of his hips, and the aching of his joints. For those with physical disabilities, there is no mistaking or ignoring the reality of chronic pain or discomfort: life inside a tortuous iron maiden that all at once does not allow you to sit still yet punishes movement. Yet for no other characters are similar measures taken.

For instance, when Jon Snow loses the use of one of his hands, every other sentence isn’t dedicated to describing it, nor Ned Stark’s broken leg. Some descriptors yes for Martin is, as mentioned, a master of his craft, yet in Tyrion, there is an excessiveness to it, a level to which it is as though we are made not to forget he is different. 

Throughout the series he plays into the role further of the carnie, doing things like flips and mid-air twirls. The physical characteristics neglected in favor of Dinklage’s good looks reinforce the fact that in the books, he must rely upon the power of coin for a woman’s (temporary) love, unlike his brother Jaime who practically has half the women in the kingdom swooning after him. Even gold diggers after the Casterly Rock goods are suspiciously absent, as though Tyrion is so abhorrent none but the whores will have him, and so in equal parts, he becomes a character who we fall in love with while falling short of the true measure of all a disabled character can be.

                                               Patchface (ASOIAF)

                                                     The Lackwit

For the unread, Patchface may be a new character. He doesn’t make an appearance onscreen but is alluded to in a brief Easter Egg during Season 3 of Game of Thrones in a song sung by Shireen Baratheon.

Prophetic characters are a narrative theme throughout the series, appearing to sometimes guide major POV characters in what will inevitably be their most consequential decisions. Daenarys, Cersei, Jon, Stannis, and Arya all encounter characters entangled directly with prophecy, and Patchface appears as one of these curious figures whose overall purpose is more or less unknown but hinted at as something bigger in the grand scheme of things. 

So named for the colorful tattoos marking his skin, Patchface was freed as a Volantine slave by Steffon Baratheon, the father of Stannis, Renly, and Robert during a trip to Essos that resulted in tragedy. Recognizing the young boy’s brilliance, Steffon intended to bring him home to Storm’s End as a court jester for the boys. Upon his return, a storm wrecked his ship in the bay, killing him and his wife. From the ramparts, his sons watched as the returning fleet was demolished and in the ensuing days, the boys were forced to face the fact that they were orphans when naught but carcasses came to shore. 

Patchface was the only survivor, his formerly recognized brilliance replaced with cognitive and intellectual impairment from a mixture of trauma and oxygen deprivation. Henceforth he lost all memory and the ability to speak in coherent sentences, instead only communicating in short snippets sometimes regarded as prophetic by those who listened at the right time. 

Occasionally, his words alluded to the watery depths, and he was designated as the court jester for Storm’s End, eventually becoming a play friend to the young Shireen Baratheon. In some ways, Patchface’s existence (and by existence, that of Bran’s) can be seen as an extension of That Magical Cripple. 

Narratives centered around disabilities have often depicted people in a state of overcoming or possessing some type of superhuman ability that somehow makes them magical. Similar to the Magical Negro trope, they use this ability to the benefit of those around them, rather than themselves, selflessly repairing a thankless world because it’s not enough to simply be. They do not learn or better themselves in any way, but rather, aid the hapless and needy around them with superhuman abilities. It is not enough to exist as a person with a disability, especially within a quasi-Medieval world whereupon they are seen as a boon to society. Rather, they must possess some ability to furthers the progress of a hero beyond themselves.

In the case of Patchface, his prophetic abilities come to a head on a cliffhanger. A Dance with Dragons leaves off where Season 5 of Game of Thrones saw its conclusion: Jon’s confrontation with the mutineers at The Nights Watch led by Alliser Thorne, spurred by his decision to investigate the goings on at Hardhome. Patchface alludes to visions of “the crows…white as snow” and “the dead are dancing”, possible allusions of wights and White Walkers while at Castle Black. If there is one thing we have learned in the ASOIAF universe, it’s that heeding the advice of the eccentric’s omens may save lives. Aside from that though, who really is Patchface? What real desires does he have? After all, even people with cognitive disabilities want for something, as any caretaker regardless of the decade can tell you.

Throughout his series, George R.R. Martin weaves a rich tapestry of characters of many different colors, rich hues, and vibrant features. For the many complaints arising in a more inclusive culture that demands more of authors now than ever, we can recognize for what it's worth, he did a good job for a white man writing high fantasy in the 90′s when his predecessors had never deigned to feature a skin tone duskier than tan, a sexuality that wasn’t heterosexual, or a suggestion of life that wasn’t based on Christian morality. 

And yet for all this, Martin’s portrayal of the lives of disabled people is a one-dimensional portrait that turns them into a 1940s-style Freak Show in Juno, Florida. Lovable characters like The Imp, and reprehensible characters like The Mountain are painted as tropes defined by their physicality and the nature of their disabilities–lest we forget them and it is clear this bias extends to showrunners and directors currently working on House of the Dragon almost 30 years later.

As nature is a spectrum so is representation, there can be good, bad, and all manner of in between, and while we can find love and cringe-worthiness in the depiction of these characters, so can we find hope for the future disability in fantasy alongside racial and sexual diversity as well. 

Catch up on Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon via HBO or any of its streaming apps, or better yet, rent it for free at your local library along with the accompanying materials.

Citations:

https://uproxx.com/tv/how-much-did-lotr-the-rings-of-power-really-cost/

https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/arts-and-culture/a41547050/rings-of-power-season-2-news/

https://www.rottentomatoes.com/tv/game_of_thrones/s08

https://www.pnas.org/doi/10.1073/pnas.2006465117

https://www.sexandpsychology.com/blog/2019/9/6/sex-and-disability-intellectual-disabilities-and-the-right-to-sexuality/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PwvGfs6Pok

https://www.ranker.com/crowdranked-list/best-game-of-thrones-characters

The year was 2011. Barack Obama prepared to run for his second term as President of the United States. The burnt-orange spray tans popularized by Jersey Shore were still en vogue. Twitter was the “hip” social media platform of choice. The world of pop punk slowed to a shuttering halt, as kohl eyeliner and tripp pants were exchanged for the revival of ‘80s nostalgia, signifying a new(ish) cultural era.

It was during this time that Tyler Okonma – more commonly known as Tyler, The Creator—emerged as an angry shock-jockey whose violent and homophobic lyrics drew equal parts criticism, and cult following. From the lines of his opening track “Goblin” in which he argues with a fictional psychiatrist over the use of the slur f****t, an expectation could be made that like many male rappers, 10 years later would he would continue on this path.

But that didn’t happen. In fact, Tyler went on to prove himself not only as a talented producer and creative powerhouse but as being capable of unadulterated growth. With his most recent release CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST, he takes listeners back through his entire discography, addressing some of these controversies head on while revealing a version of himself no one ever would’ve foreseen in 2011; a man who can just as easily say “Men or women it don’t matter/If I seen ‘em I had ‘em” . Tyler’s evolution as an artist is a definitive example of the complexity of queer culture, how it intersects with race, and the ways in which we both identify and grow.

When Goblin dropped in 2011, it was in a time before the rabid aggression of “Cancel Culture”. Controversy certainly existed, but without the winding feedback loop of social media being as prevalent as it is today, indiscretions simply did not gain as much exposure. At its roots, Goblin is difficult to swallow. At the time, it was a calling card for any moody moshing teen who praised emo/goth culture and defied the inevitable transition to “adulting” that was loathed by the Millennial generation. The album featured many performers from the former supergroup Odd Future, introducing to us the likes of Frank Ocean, Syd, Earl Sweatshirt, and Matt Martians. A group based on nihilistic chaos, they eschewed both the chillwave identity of California and its alternate gangster rap subculture. Instead, they settled into a niche of rap for counterculture kids that probably would have made it onto a Dylan Klebold mixtape—even with his white supremacist ideology.

Over an hour of rants and raves about infanticide, sexual assault, murder, and homophobic slurs is the makeup of Goblin. It is a clear attempt to both vent and provoke, shocking some listeners, drawing in others, and showcasing a distinct brand of unexpected creative intelligence on Tyler’s part. Throughout the album he flows in and out of a conversation with a deep voice we clearly understand to be a therapist, churning up his innermost thoughts and darkest fantasies while stumbling through an emotional rabbit hole. Even for the vile lyrics, there is a lot to be said about the general composition of the album, as well as the production—mastered by Tyler himself.

Wolf followed in 2013 in a similar vein, featuring appearances by the OF family and surprise appearance by Erykah Badu and Pharrell (often identified as an inspirational source of inspiration for Tyler). The album calmed down in tone somewhat, but still served to promote silly outbursts. There wasn’t much deep or important to say, and the controversy over Tyler’s evident homophobia continued.

An interesting note on that is around that time, many couldn’t help but question the context of his obsession with using homophobic slurs despite being in such close collaboration with members of the LGBTQIA+ community. In 2012 Frank Ocean publicly came out to drastic fanfare, and Syd had more or less been out of the closet for as long as we knew her to be a part of Odd Future. Neither seemed to hold any sort of vitriol against Tyler for it, leading to the idea that surely, there had to be something more to his behavior.

Whispers began to erupt with the release of Cherry Bomb as many questioned whether he was straight at all. Cherry Bomb was a clear attempt at a shift in direction that was met with mixed reviews by critics. It was the clear sign of a desire for growth and change, but full of missteps in execution. Tyler’s name continued to grow, as did the names of his former OF mates who went on to become successful in their own projects. Syd and Matt Martians went on to find success with the neo-soul band The Internet, Earl Sweatshirt went solo after being shipped off to a boarding school by his mother, and Frank Ocean further solidified his existence as Frank Ocean. Still, his fashion line was gaining steady traction, and the crew remained true to their antics on the Adult Swim show Loiter Squad, where they interacted with major forces in comedy ranging from Seth Rogan to Channing Tatum.

And then came Flower Boy, a definitive schism in Tyler’s discography and a clear indication of a new era. Alternately titled Scum Flower Fuck Boy, the lush albums’ theme of growth was bursting with insightful reflections, woozy chill-inducing synth, and the unexpected vocalists like Rex Orange County.

While community aggregate Ranker rates the album as his second best, there should be consideration to the fact that the album helped bring back fans he’d lost, introduce new ones, and effectively skyrocket him to the status of the elite. Without this album, he surely would not have made it to NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert, or a been recognized as a man who could clearly be defined as a creative genius.

The speculation about his sexuality once more peaked both owing to a line in the album many perceived to be a confirmation of same-sex attraction, and a joke made my Jaden Smith during an interview about their relationship. He never confirmed or denied exactly what he meant about “kissing white boys”, leaving many in a state of confusion that was not confirmed until the release of IGOR in 2019.

IGOR is undoubtedly Tyler’s most successful album to date, securing the rapper and producer Grammy Awards, contracted jobs for film soundtracks, and a nomination for the Best Album in the World from NME. His dark and disturbing penchant for violence appeared once more, though this time in the socially acceptable context of monogamous culture as he nonchalantly sings about the unrequited love of another man still in the closet.

There was no fanfare. No lengthy interviews or Pride Parade appearances. Tyler simply made the choice to live his life authentically with a type of visibility that’s complex in modern queer culture. While many sought to understand just why he never made this known sooner (ideally when Goblin came out), it is difficult for younger folks to remember that marriage equality has not even been in place in the U.S. for 10 years.

For black men this is even more complex, with many in the black community still maintaining active bigotry against gay, bisexual, and pansexual men. In 2019, BET reported the ongoing belief that black men who are not straight serve as an active "threat" to black woman, seen as dangerous harbingers of disease and abnormalities who do not participate within the frame of toxic masculinity as they “should”. The world of black queerdom is immensely loaded and layered, and in the world of hip-hop that appears to be tenfold.

LGBTQIA+

Summary: One of Hollywood’s greatest legends summons a struggling writer for a final tell-all to set the record straight about who amongst her many lovers was her one true love. 

Review Link: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/4981011136

Full review: Roughly 2,408 years ago, Plato wrote of a Symposium (a drinking party for artists and philosophers in Ancient Greece). This particular Symposium produced a series of texts that are studied across different courses in schools and universities worldwide today. 

A poignant text from that evening is the Myth of Aristophanes, a farcical creation myth detailing the origins of man. According to the playwright Aristophanes, humans began as an intersex species with multiple sets of limbs. They aggrieved the gods in a display of great pride by attempting to climb Mt. Olympus. As punishment, Zeus cast them down and cleaved them in two, birthing our current anatomical state (fewer arms, legs, and eyes) and the two sexes. In addition to this, humanity became cursed, doomed eternally to forever search for their other half, their “soulmate”. This union the soul could only be found through Eros, in love or lust.  

Aristophanes meant this tale as a drunken joke, yet today we cling fervently to the notion of the soulmate. In cultures where we have the freedom to choose relationships, the majority of people believe in the existence of romantic soulmates. 

There are the other forms soulmates can take, especially for those who de-prioritize romantic love as a driving force in their lives, or who may practice non-hierarchical forms of nonmonogamy, like relationship anarchy. As the Washington Post states: “Biologically speaking, close friendships are a type of soul mate too…This ability we have to make someone special — our brains can do it again and again. That’s why we can have more than one soul mate in our lives. (Lervine, 2022).

In offices above us all, companies from dating apps to food companies capitalize heavily on this same notion to sell products. “What you call love was invented by guys like me, to sell nylons,” says Donald Draper in the very first episode of Mad Men.

No matter our personal stances on the soulmate, it is the latter that has the biggest influence, all stemming from that drunken farcical speech Aristophanes made. The billion dollar industry of love powers media, social mores, and consumer markets. Its mark on literature is poignant, and for authors like Taylor Jenkins Reid is how they have found success. 

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo epitomizes this obsession with love, in an Americana-laced tale about an Old Hollywood star who reveals the secret she’s been hiding most of her life: her true love hasn’t been any of her seven spouses, but a woman. 

The titular character is an amalgamation of our world’s legendary screen sirens - Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, and Rita Hayworth. She’s beautiful, unscrupulous, and has a rags to riches story that takes her to Hollywood where she skyrockets to success.

At the beginning of book we’re introduced to Evelyn post-career, as an elderly woman who reaches out to a little known reporter named Monique and offers her an interview. Her words suggest a tone of finality that indicate terminal illness, and a desire to get some things off her chest. From there, she begins to recount her life, experiences, her seven husbands, and the woman she hid beneath it all: Celia St. James. 

Two connections are made clear in Evelyn’s contacting Monique, who is a talented but unknown quantity. The first, is that the two share similarities as women of color, with Evelyn being Cuban and white passing and having hidden her identity during her career to attain stardom. Monique on the other hand is Caucasian and Black, and proud of her biracial heritage. This pride in the seeming duality of her race is something Evelyn assumes wille make Monique an inherently open-minded person when she reveals the truth about her relationship with Celia.

Monique does not inherently understand. She instinctively assumes Evelyn is a lesbian, much to Evelyn’s chagrin despite her own numerous passages stating that she is “biracial, not black”. 

As Evelyn recounts the history of her career and husbands, readers are interestingly treated to descriptions of men she loved, and men she abhorred alike. She meets men who use her, abuse her, love her, and idolize her all alike. Out of the seven, the general point of the book is that Celia is her one true love. 

Celia is a fellow actress and co-star of Evelyn’s and a lesbian. While far from unscrupulus as Evelyn, she does not possess a careless attitude about social norms of the time. That said, Celia possesses a seemingly naive attitude about what will happen if they are exposed and their lives subject to ruin. 

The result is a tumultuous relationship that is depicted as romantic. Both maintain beard relationships at various points, and Celia explodes into emotionally abusive tirades. Neither defines solid boundaries about what they’re willing to do or not do for their relationship, nor do they simply walk away when they feel disrespected. As with many Classic Hollywood movies, Celia is portrayed as the passionate lover who just cannot stand to see her femme fatale behaving badly. Her cruelty is justified as romantic, while Evelyn’s actions can be justified as simply doing what she has to for their relationship, or reviled for doing Celia wrong.

While poorly studied, data shows intimate partner violence among LGBTQ partnerships is staggering. “Life-time prevalence of IPV in LGB couples appeared to be similar to or higher than in heterosexual ones: 61.1% of bisexual women, 43.8% of lesbian women, 37.3% of bisexual men, and 26.0% of homosexual men experienced IPV during their life, while 35.0% of heterosexual women and 29.0% of heterosexual men experienced IPV. (Rollè, Giardina, Caldarera et al.) 

For the majority of readers of the book this relationship is viewed as simply passionate. Celia’s insults, degradation, name-calling, and devaluement is something that can be forgiven in the name of love, or simply doesn’t count because Celia and Evelyn are both women. 

On the Multiamory podcast, guest speaker and OkCupid Dating Coach Damona Hoffman joined the shows hosts to promote her upcoming book F the Fairy Tale: Rewrite the Dating Myths and Live Your Own Love Story. Among those myths she detailed the soulmate narrative, which she believes prevents people from pursuing relationships as they do not expect meeting people to mirror the feelings Don Draper and advertising executives have described in movies, advertising campaigns, and books. Show host Jase Lindgren also echoed the concerns growing numbers of relationships therapists and psychologists have stated with this idea today, which is that many people adhering to this idea are inclined to stay in relationships that are emotionally or physically abusive because they believe they have found their soulmate and won’t find another. As Jenkins Reid writes shows us, that’s all that matters. 

For the rest of the tale the two continue to part and come back to the each other, with Evelyn flying between men. She does find love in a way that is troublesome. Evelyn marries one of her best friends, gives birth to a child, and has perhaps one of the most stable relationships in the book–but its completely discounted as meaningless because he’s not Celia. He is a bisexual man who has been with her from the beginning, has been the only one who did not judge her, and has been the only character to treat her with respect throughout the entire book. Their love is one that is real, whole, and for those of us that believe in multiple soulmates, fulfills the criteria. 

While the book has been well received, it doesn’t always sit well in its representation of queer or BIPOC individuals. Evelyn’s character is the walking embodiment of harmful stereotypes about bisexual women. She is portrayed as hypersexual, narcissistic, manipulative, persistently unhappy, and unable to maintain a monogamous relationship. She is consistently questioned about whether she is really bisexual, attached to mostly men, and seemingly only finds the resolution to some of these things through Celia. Add to this her description of being Cuban contains frequent reference to her body type, which is at odds with beauty standards of Latino culture (or even white beauty standards of the 50s) and the characterization becomes a fetishization of these aspects of her character. 

These instances are seen again whenever characters who are not white or straight are present. Monique has cringeworthy passages alluding to her status as biracial. These reflections are indicative of an author who does not spend significant time engaging with the culture or communities they are writing about, and is producing work that is not intended to be consumed by them. 

You can find The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo here via its publisher Simon & Schuster, likely at your local library, or perhaps your local bookstore. 

Citations: 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/2022/09/16/soul-mates-real-science-research/

BIPOC

Dune: Part Two and the Discussion of MENA Representation

Review Link: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/profiles/ratings/WYdFQDHR9tGJf9wiWXh8ZFR8iGGCaLHwBhawIZ0ubbCexiapiJVTWOFeeCzdIpjhmXFp4u11CYNTl4fOPSWQfkWC6bIb6SyBFVXfO4TZzc4m/movie

Following its much-anticipated release, the long-awaited second installation of Denis Villeneuve’s Dune adaptation has proven itself a sci-fi spectacle that must be experienced to be believed. 

It’s an outrageous combination of awe-inspiring cinematography, adept writing, and the talents of an all-star cast topped off by a score by veteran composer Hans Zimmer. The result: a feast for the senses that presents the stark realization that films on a scale this epic only come around once or twice a generation.

For those unfamiliar with the source material, the full extent of how truly epic this is may be lost. Part of the beauty of Dune is that Villeneuve simplified the story in such a way that it can be understood by moviegoers with no connection whatsoever to author Frank Herbert’s novel, or ever-having-seen the adaptations by David Lynch or SyFy (f/k/a Sci Fi). Within this simplification, the story of Dune doesn’t become reductive, nor are essential plot points lost. Like all adaptations, there are components lost, however even compared to Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings it can be argued that fewer creative liberties have been taken, and the ones that have been are worthy of discussion. 

Some of these changes are adaptations inherent to the modernization of source material written by a white man in the 1960s. While science fiction has arguably been a haven for progressive ideas, it still faces the limitations of the author's society and the popular sentiments of their time. 

Environmentalism, non-traditional relationships, the loss of innocence, and the power of femininity are all topics brought to life by Frank Herbert in his original novel–adeptly at times, sloppily in others. Decades later, Villeneuve irons out some of the flaws: the white savior narrative, the depiction of women, and the dreadful attempts to depict witch children.

These changes along with the skillful dedication to a remarkable piece of science fiction create what will undoubtedly be looked upon as a classic in due time, yet has been met with some degree of controversy for its depiction–or lack thereof of one group. 

Created in their image, the Fremen were shaped after those of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), with the Islamic faith making up aspects of their religion and the Middle East serving as the very essence of Arrakis. Yet in casting, MENA actors were notably absent from these roles, and the focus on much of the Fremen culture was notably absent, leaving many to question why.

Dune’s Roots in the Middle East

Written in 1965, Dune is considered one of the most remarkable science-fiction books of all time. Part of this significance is because, in 1965, it was a book that attained popularity while being so fervently against the cliches present in normal bestsellers: moral absolutes, Eurocentrism, and Western imperialism. 

For over a decade, we have now come to cherish and normalize media that centers around morally gray and ambiguous characters. We actively seek out things that de-center white, straight, and cisgender narratives. Yet in 1965, a world wherein the United States had barely de-segregated, homosexuality was outlawed across most of the world, and Christian colonialism efforts still ran rampant across many nations? A book challenging the status quo was impactful. 

The representation of MENA culture is intrinsic to everything that Dune is, from its language to its scenery to the music present in Villeneuve’s adaptations. Set primarily on the desert world of Arrakis, Herbert based the topography of the planet on regions of the Pacific Northwestern United States, yet its allegorical implications are clear. 

Arrakis is home to melange or “spice”, a heavily-coveted resource that grants extended longevity, bestows metaphysical abilities, and fuels interstellar travel. The latter is perhaps the most commercially beneficial of the three, and drives colonization of Arrakis, as well as the oppression and subsequent eradication of its Indigenous peoples.  

Within his writing, Herbert created a clear mirror of our own world: a desert region, plagued by war, aggression, and despoilment of the environment all for the sake of natural resources. In our own world, that resource is oil, and our Arrakis is the Middle East. 

Arriving just as environmental advocacy began to take off in the 1970s, The History Channel states “Many environmentalists interpreted Dune as a critique of the oil industry, with Herbert’s friend Willis E. McNelly writing that the empire’s reliance on spice can “be construed as a thinly veiled allegory of our world’s insatiable appetite for oil and other petroleum products” (Greenspan 2024). Perhaps more salient are the linguistics of Dune, which are directly composed of Arabic words. Throughout the book, both the Fremen, the Indigenous peoples of Arrakis as well as other factions of the world are described using Arabic language. Manvar Singh writes:

“The language with the greatest influence in “Dune” is Arabic. In the novel, the Fremen use at least eighty terms with clear Arabic origins, many of them tied to Islam. The Fremen follow istislah (“natural law”) and ilm (“theology”). They respect karama (“miracle”) and ijaz (“prophecy”), and are attentive to ayat (“signs”) and burhan (“proof”) of life. They quote the Kitab al-Ibar, or “Book of Lessons,” an allusion to the encyclopedia of world history penned by the fourteenth-century Arab historian Ibn Khaldun. Central characters are dignified with Arabic names. The colossal sandworms are called shai-hulud (“thing of eternity”). Paul Atreides’s sister is Alia (“exalted”). Paul himself is known as Muad’Dib, an epithet that resembles the Arabic word for teacher (mu’addib), and he is fabled to be the Lisan al-Gaib, translated in the book as “Voice of the Outer World” but which, in modern Arabic, means something closer to “Tongue of the Unseen.”

Then of course comes the music, composed by industry titan Hans Zimmer who broke his longstanding alliance with director Christopher Nolan to focus on Dune and Dune: Part Two. In creating his score, Zimmer explored a full range of instruments in a way he claimed he had not since scoring The Lion King. Utilizing vocalists, an array of culturally diverse instruments, and spending ample time listening to the sounds of the desert, he synthesized the music together to intentionally create a soundtrack intended to mimic the experience of a spice-induced trip in a desert sandstorm, embraced by the energy of the divine feminine. 

An Absence of MENA

With the depth of these roots in Middle Eastern culture, it would stand to reason that Dune would feature a sizeable cast. In addition to the Arabic language, Fremen religion heavily mirrors Islam, and while there are certainly Caucasian converts–we are focusing on a war for Arrakis and its Indigenous peoples.

Upon first glance at the Fremen in the first installation of Dune, we see a spattering of brown and black faces. Most notable are actress Zendaya who is biracial, and Javier Bardem, who is Spanish. Further introduction to the rest of the Fremen reveals similar casting choices among billed actors. 

It’s straightforward: “Despite the film's obvious inspirations, there are no leading actors of Middle Eastern or North African heritage.” (Shah, 2024) 

And why does this matter? When we beg the question of the difference between appropriation and appreciation, the deliberation includes questions about participation. Without the participation of the cultures involved, representation warps into fetishization at best, and appropriation at worst. 

Dune is a tale that warns us about the harms of colonialism, environmental despoilment, and religious extremism. Villeneuve’s version takes care to approach the topic of colonialism with extra caution, approaching painting the Fremen not as a singular unit that can easily be converted by the right white savior, but as a multitude of people with different beliefs. Some fundamentalists believe deeply in their faith and follow the direction of Paul and the prophecy instilled (falsely) by the Bene Gessirit. Then there are the detractors like Chani who have seen attempts at colonialism before, and who shy away from religion for that exact region. They reject Paul’s so-called place as the Chosen One–and any outsider who should lead them. 

To make these changes shows consideration on Villeneuve’s part. To fail to recognize the importance of casting actors of Middle Eastern and North African descent in a story directly inspired by a culture based on the Middle East and North Africa shows a distinct lack of it. 

A New Decade of MENA Representation

So, why such a prolific absence of MENA representation when it would truly make an impact? We need to examine two factors 1.) the overall distancing from Islamic culture within Villeneuve’s adaptation, and 2.) how filmmaking in a post 9/11 world has changed the representation of Islamic characters. 

As an adaptation of Herbert’s novel, Villeneuve takes the traditional liberties with the source material that a director is known for in bringing a book to the big screen. The core tenants remain, and many of the most important phrases and elements are retained. Yet to make the adaptation accessible to audiences unfamiliar with previous adaptations or the book it has been simplified. 

This simplification allows Villeneuve to pour energy into enhancing other aspects of the film. He drastically expands upon the female characters within the film, giving them purpose outside of appeasing Paul, bewitching men, or narrating his life.

With adaptation comes a loss of the “finer details”. In addition to the distinct lack of MENA actors, there is a drastic reduction in the language, and of course, scenes depicting Fremen's way of life and culture. These include rites of inheritance, polygyny (not to be confused with polyamory), and the decidedly not-Islamic-inspired ritual orgy that occurs following Jessica’s confirmation as the new Mother Superior of the tribe. 

These departures (the orgy notwithstanding, undoubtedly shed without a thought to maintain the film's PG-13 rating) are but a few of the cultural aspects sanitized from a story showcasing Arabic inspiration. Though it’s impossible to diminish it completely. Looking back through Villeneuve’s background, we can speculate on his reasons for this and perhaps consider whether it was done with intent. 

Following the September 11th attacks, Hollywood faced years of missteps in the representation of MENA characters onscreen, who were then stereotyped in the roles of jihadists, an imminent threat to the West for years to come. It didn’t matter whether the film took place in the past or present, the ideals were functionally the same. 

A notable example is Zack Snyder’s 300, adapted from Frank Miller’s graphic novel of the same name. Published in 1998, Snyder brought the film to life in 2006, where it received mixed critical reviews, and uproar internationally for its depiction of Iranians in the Spartan and Persian Battle at Thermopylae.

Brazilian actor Rodrigo Santoro portrays the antagonist King Xerxes as an effeminate gold-painted and pompous self-proclaimed God-king who seeks to drive forward a kingdom of sexual slavery. Leonidus, portrayed by Gerard Butler and his 300 men stand fierce to beat back Xerxes' soldiers and defend the good people of Sparta from slavery, the injustice of war, and the bleakness of what Xerxes promises. 

Yet the historical inaccuracy is ripe, and rewritten to appeal to Western notions of glory and sentiment. Historian Gary Leupp of Tufts challenged the film, explaining” In short: 300's depiction of the battle of Thermopylae is not merely inaccurate, as any film adaptation of a graphic novel has the perfect right to be. It's what the Iranians say it is: racist and insulting. It pits the glorious Greeks with whom the audience must sympathize against a "mystical" and "tyrannical" culture posing an imminent existential threat. It is, de facto, an anti-Persian/anti-Iranian propaganda film” (2007). In his statement, he explicitly breaks down the inaccuracies regarding the history of Xerxes and Persia versus the representation seen onscreen, which can be found in the citations link below. 

300 was but one example on the big screen. The late ‘00s/early ‘10s was the period of high-stakes television and as well. Shows like Homeland brought A-list performers like Claire Danes onscreen and normalized Islamophobia. Numerous forms of media following the attacks have depicted Muslims as “extremists, barbaric, insidious, and untrustworthy”. 

What many of us forget about is the very simple passage of time and the birth of new generations. Within a few short years, Gen Z has arisen, all but forgetting the pain and anxiety born of the September 11th attacks and seemingly everything that came with it–after all, none of them can even remember the day. 

In addition to that they are a generation born amidst an era of rapid information cycling and trend generation, and place an importance on publicly presenting their morality on their sleeve. All of this combined means the lessons, hardships, and mistakes of the past–can be forgotten quicker than we can imagine, and expectations to adhere to newly defined ideals of what is politically correct are defined seemingly overnight. 

It can be hard to keep up with. Especially if one is still concerned with the trials that seemed so important–and still are–ten years ago. Given the thought Villeneuve put into expanding upon aspects of Dune, it is difficult to imagine he didn’t put thought into how issues of problematic representation of MENA could arise. 

Ali-Karjoo Ravary writing for Al Jazeera pointed out during the release of the first installation of the film that the brand marketing changed up some of the wording of the film, stating “a crusade is coming” which marked an intentional difference from the book’s statement of “a jihad is coming”. Wording matters, as “Herbert’s nuanced understanding of jihad shows in his narrative. He did not aim to present jihad as simply a “bad” or “good” thing. Instead, he uses it to show how the messianic impulse, together with the apocalyptic violence that sometimes accompanies it, changes the world in uncontrollable and unpredictable ways.” (2020)

Of course, Herbert’s interpretation is an empathetic view and not one shared by many people with biases against those who pray to any god without white skin. While he tries, Paul ultimately succumbs to his will and manipulates the Fremen into following his aims to declare war on the galaxy. As the Fremen are proven to be some of the most formidable fighters we have seen and Paul’s manipulations are aided thanks to religious seeds planted by his mother’s order, this becomes a jihad in every way. He is the prophet. They are his holy avengers.

To cast MENA actors in these roles would once again fill slots of extreme religious fundamentalists, and this time, ones following a white man–no matter how nuanced the film has been made. Granted, as actors, they have a choice. Choosing representation is better than having none, however, if they had the conversation would likely then become “Dune: Part Two is a stereotype of MENA actors”. 

Is there a middle ground? There is of course, and this is where we notice the overt failure of casting directors in Hollywood. Following the criticism of the first film, Part Two touted its hiring of Swiss actress Souheila Yacoub who is of Tunisian descent. She played the role of one of the Northern Fremen, who stand against Paul’s attempts to co-opt their culture. Yet from the beginning, why not more featured characters? Why not Stilgar, Chani, Jamis, or even a surprise role similar to the one Anya-Taylor Joy played? 

While post-9/11 Islamophobia may have ebbed before the War on Gaza, we’ve entered a time where even the Hollywood excuse for “star power” fails when we remember the global world we now live in. Whether they are stars in their land or Americans with parents or religious heritage, there’s little to no excuse for the continued erasure and diminishment of culture onscreen–and in time Hollywood will come to know it. 

Citations: https://www.rottentomatoes.com/profiles/ratings/WYdFQDHR9tGJf9wiWXh8ZFR8iGGCaLHwBhawIZ0ubbCexiapiJVTWOFeeCzdIpjhmXFp4u11CYNTl4fOPSWQfkWC6bIb6SyBFVXfO4TZzc4m/movie

1. Maxwell D. Post-colonial Christianity in Africa. In: McLeod H, ed. The Cambridge History of Christianity. Cambridge History of Christianity. Cambridge University Press; 2006:401-421.

Disabled

Summary: Champion surfer Westlake Soul’s entire life is turned upside down after a surfing accident leaves him in a persistent vegetative state. As his family and friends struggle to maintain the hope that he will reawaken, Westlake himself persists in an ultimate battle for his livelihood with the newfound powers granted by the accident–powers that have the potential to bring him back for good.

Review Link: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5256249753?book_show_action=false

Full review: When we reflect upon our preconceptions about health and disability, we’re faced with the ways such biases color our perceptions of that world.

In the United States alone, 27% of people are disabled. The World Health Organization estimates this number is 1 in 6 individuals worldwide. We we think of disabilities, the preconceptions above that arise are often the associations of people with physical disabilities, or occasionally debilitating mental disabilities associated with trauma. 

As growing numbers of people are beginning to recognize, however, disabilities come in a variety of physical, mental, and emotional forms. They can be physical conditions such as blindness, invisible conditions like Diabetes, or mental illnesses like Schizophrenia. Additionally, they can come in varying states of permanency, like a broken leg that will heal, or deafness, which a person can be born with, or Multiple Sclerosis which a person can begin experiencing the effects of during adulthood. 

Westlake Soul is an adept exploration of acquired disability that soars over the tropes of disability narratives, interweaving a fantasy-laden psychedelic experience to take us into the mind of a character trapped in a persistent vegetative state following a catastrophic surfing accident.

A vegetative state is defined as “when the cerebrum (the part of the brain that controls thought and behavior) no longer functions, but the hypothalamus and brain stem (the parts of the brain that control vital functions…continue to function. Thus, people open their eyes and appear awake but otherwise do not respond to stimulation in any meaningful way.” (Maise, 2022)

In the ensuing years following the accident, the titular character’s family holds out hope that he will emerge from his fleshy tomb, unaware that within the confines of his mind, Westlake has undergone a transformation. 

He’s developed superpowers. 

For decades, there was a misguided, ableist, and now-outdated trope of granting disabled characters superpowers, often promoting them to the status of over-arching villains or occasionally, insufferable heroes in some attempt to “prove” their worthiness to society. 

Dr. Sami Schalk alludes to this stereotype as the “supercrip” a term that has dated back since the 1970s and analyzes the issues with its deployment in media. 

In an article examining the term in disability studies scholarship, Dr. Schalk defines the trope and its issues: 

“in Marvel comics in particular, superpowers “‘overcompensate’ for a perceived physical defect, difference, or outright disability. Often, the super-power will erase the disability, banishing it to the realm of the invisible, replacing it with raw power and heroic acts of derring-do in a hyper-masculine fashion” (307). While there are connections and even overlap between the two, I distinguish the superpowered supercrip narrative from the glorified supercrip narrative because the person in a glorified supercrip narrative is represented as achieving something extraordinary through (supposedly) only hard work and determination, whereas the person or character in a superpowered supercrip narrative becomes exceptional by dint of their extraordinary powers and abilities alone—powers and abilities which are not the result of effort, but merely accident or luck. These are the stories of characters like the blind detective with extraordinary hearing or the superhero who gains powers after a potentially disabling accident.”

In Westlake Soul, author Rio Youers subverts this trope by crafting the development of Westlake’s powers as something of an enigma. Indeed, Westlake’s gifts are powerful, yet limited. So limited that he can barely make use of them. He is hardly the second coming of Professor X. 

He can mentally flit in and out of his body to influence others and spends ample time communicating with the family dog. His attempts to telepathically commune with family and friends to inform them that he is in fact still conscious and has newfound powers can be described as discomforting at best, leaving him to abandon the practice. Mostly, he spends his time battling an impending specter that appears within his dream space by the name of Dr. Quietus whose presence perhaps indicates a threat more real than a simple nightmare. These battles leave Westlake exhausted when he awakens, and with too little energy to put more into attempting to achieve his goal: figuring out how to regain control of his cerebrum. 

This importance of achieving this goal becomes imperative when it becomes clear that after several years, Westlake’s family has begun to consider his quality of life. Whether he will ever reawaken or if he is even at all conscious is a matter of debate that cannot be answered by doctors around them, and without a living will having been prepared in advance by Westlake, there is no guidance on whether the life he is currently living is one he ever would have liked to live. All they can now debate is his right to live vs. his right to die with dignity. 

The right to die is a highly contested issue right now, with more healthcare systems internationally adapting to the demand for people’s demand to die with dignity as populations continue to exceed life expectancy, and face an increase in disease. An NPR Boston affiliate reports “In the past five years, states allowing access to life-ending medication for the terminally ill have more than tripled.” (Sutherland, Chakrabarti, and Skoog, 2023). 

Their decision is one mostly driven by empathy and care: no one wants to see their loved one suffer or exist in a state of what many of us would consider to be a low-quality life. And herein lies the horror Youers brings: we see into Westlake's mind. We know that, unlike the real world of comatose and vegetative people, Westlake is very much conscious. He is fighting to come back, and he is battling each and every eerie day. 

Westlake must find the means to battle his foe and unite with his body while taking us on a journey through his innermost thoughts, memories, and desires in a spectacular book that makes for fantastic graphic novel material. 

With care and consideration, Rio Youers crafts a portrait of disability and tragedy and centers on a devastating situation while making it flourish with love and light. There are many joyful moments to be found and a beautiful journey to coast among the many waves. 

Not to mention lots of conversations with the family dog. 

You can find Westlake Soul here at Youers’ website, attempt to find or order a copy through your local bookstore, or find it via your local library. 

Citations: 

BIPOC

Summary: At a young age, a great burden falls upon the shoulders of a young boy named Shivan. To find shelter in a family torn apart by Sri Lanka’s raging Civil War, he is forced to appeal to his grandmother’s good graces, becoming the right hand of a legacy fueled by avarice and cruelty. As he grows, this legacy becomes a part of him, something he cannot separate himself from no matter how far he travels or what journeys he undertakes. In this semi-autobiographical work, author Shyam Selvadurai carves a quest weaving together spirituality, pain, and the journal to rebalance the karmic legacy the Shivan has offset so he may free himself and his family once and for all. 

Review: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5598790639

Full review: Death: one of the most frightening subjects for human beings to consider. With a sense of dread, we unconsciously (or consciously) invest in ways that extend our longevity, participating in diet regimens, religious rites ensuring afterlife, and avoid discussion of the matter. 

The topic of our expiration date can be so anxiety-inducing that according to psychologists Jeff Greenberg and Tom Pyszczynski “people go to great lengths to seek security; they embrace belief systems that give them a sense of meaning — religion, values, community.” (Vedantam, Cohen & Schmidt). 

What spurs this fear? It’s a complicated question, bearing in mind religious beliefs, political status, and socioeconomic status. Practitioners of certain religions have been associated with heightened fear of death due to anxiety regarding punishment in accordance with their religious doctrine. According to this 2012 study, the afterlife and risks of eternal damnation can strike fear in the hearts of many. Meanwhile, those facing political violence experience fear regarding their manner of impending death, according to Dr. Jade Wu. The seeming absence of fear by macabre-obsessed goth kids and at-peace end-of-lifers? Lacking religious connection or a fear of death, so too lies an absence of fear. 

Yet there remains a final debated fear rooted in the ego–or put in nicer words–the legacy we leave behind. What comes after us, be it in terms of our family, business, or even our species? 

The question of this legacy and its foothold in spirituality is a touchpoint in Shyam Selvadurai’s The Hungry Ghosts, titled after the preta of Buddhist and Chinese traditional faith. Voraciously hungry, these ghosts are sired by life that has displayed tendencies towards unfettered greed and cruelty and exist in a state of insatiability that causes relentless misery even in death to their living kindred. It is only good deeds that can resolve their lifetime errs–a rebalancing of their karma, transforming their hungry spirits into ones of peace. 

Selvadurai presents us this journey as a semi-autobiographical reimagining of his life immigrating from Sri Lanka to Canada. The story begins with young Shivan, his mother, and his sister arriving at the doorstep of his grandmother during the Sri Lankan Civil War, a bloody 30-year conflict that only recently ended in 2009.

Previously cast out by her family for marrying a Tamil man, Shivan’s mother has no choice but to return with the death of his father. On the verge of homelessness, it is Shivan who manages to appeal to his grandmother and thaw her cold shoulder, acquiring shelter for the three of them and forging a bond that only grows over the years. 

It’s a relationship but on equal parts manipulation and admiration. Even in his young age, Shivan understands his need to appeal to his grandmother’s every whim to earn his keep, and his grandmother in term knows his complicity extends so far as to acquire housing for his mother and sister. Still, an exceptional bond of love grows between the two, as she dotes on him, and he her, a natural matriarchal love tearing through the iron armor that has shrouded her for years. She uses Shivan as a tool, embracing his soft heart for her business needs as a landlady and business developer while Shivan’s quick wit and clear aptitude gain him more responsibility.

Unknown to both of them, a day comes when Shivan unexpectedly begins to consider his own yearnings and desires and whether they have more meaning than the needs (petty or essential) of his family. Beneath the many burdens he has carried into adulthood, a profound one surfaces: his sexuality. Illegal in Sri Lanka, Shivan’s burgeoning identity as a gay man threatens to break free as he begins to imagine a life where no longer has to accept remaining a secret. With immigration opportunities arising due to the war, he is given the chance to choose: a new life in a country where he can find freedom? Or his commitment to the woman who has given him life, shelter, and a path?

Freedom, it turns out, comes with a significant cost. Upon moving to Canada, Shivan, his mother, and his sister experience the brutality of racism, poverty, and isolation. Within the gay scene, Shivan faces fetishization from people who go so far as to use his status to manipulate and assault him, and discrimination from men who treat him as a plague to be avoided at all cost. 

Racism in the gay community should not come as a surprise in 2023. It was in 2020 that hookup app Grindr announced it was removing its ethnicity filters, a longtime part of a culture in which it was normalized for men to actively promote whiteness to the upper echelons of attractiveness. The central argument of “preference vs. racism” of course can be broken down by two researchers who found:

 “...Despite gay white men’s insistence that sexual exclusion was not racism but rather personal preference, and that these personal preferences have nothing to do with racism… attitudes toward sexual exclusion were related to almost every identified factor associated with racist attitudes in general. More importantly, the authors found that even gay white men who do not actively engage in acts of sexual exclusion were incredibly tolerant of racist behaviors from other gay white men who did.” (Han and Choi, 2018)

Shivan’s experiences are all the more painful as they are unexpected. He comes to Canada expecting acceptance, only to find a community wherein one aspect of himself is accepted (his sexuality but not the rest of him.

During this time, the pull of the hungry ghost he has helped create in his grandmother begins to surface, sucking misery into it year by year. Happiness cannot be attained, and tragedy abounds. It becomes clear over the years that Shivan must make amends for the pain he has caused in conjunction with his grandmother to find peace.

As human beings, we will inevitably cause harm, cruelty, and grief in our lifetime. Yet to sire a hungry ghost goes beyond the norm, and it is this we seek to avoid. And in our age of constant consumerism, greed, and rampant apathy, the book serves as a reminder to stay on the path of karmic balance, seeking balance, and accepting opportunities to remain true to ourselves and others. 

This was a difficult book for me to track down through my local library in the U.S. I advise tracking down The Hungry Ghosts through Shyam Selvadurai’s website here, or trying your luck at your library if you’re in a bigger city (or Canada).

Citations: 

Han CS, Choi KH. Very Few People Say "No Whites": Gay Men of Color and The Racial Politics of Desire. Sociol Spectr. 2018;38(3):145-161. doi: 10.1080/02732173.2018.1469444. Epub 2018 Jul 6. PMID: 30906102; PMCID: PMC6426121.