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To Pledge or Not to Pledge: A National Anthem Protest Story

Kaepernick sits on bench during AnthemI have a complicated relationship with the Pledge of Allegiance and other nationalist rituals like singing the National Anthem, so I was hoping the whole issue stirred up by San Francisco 49er’s Quarterback Colin Kaepernick would go away quickly. Its too difficult of a conversation to have on social media, where nuance goes to die. Yet, I found myself itching to have a go at it. Had it just died on the vine after it started, I could have left it alone. But as other players and even non-athletes continue to join or approve of his protest, combined with another story I keep seeing in my feed about a Native American public school student in California, Leilani Thomas, who sat for the pledge having her grades lowered, I feel the need to talk this one out. I assume I’ll get criticism from all sides of this debate, which is a slot I’m familiar with.

Let me get this out of the way. The First Amendment allows us the ability to speak and express ourselves however we want (without physical violence) free of censorship from the government. This does not grant us freedom from criticism, or consequences for those views (as long as its not the government punishing us as is the case against that CA student). Speech we disagree with is best combated by the counter-speech we do agree with. If you’d like to know more about the distinction between government censorship and criticism by the average person, Popehat’s “Hello, You’ve been referred here because you’re wrong about the first amendment” is a great read.  I do believe that we all need to do better to foster the spirit of free speech, therefore shouting down someone you disagree with rather than engaging them in calm debate is counterproductive and wrong, and that punishing someone for their speech (like an employer censoring, or firing someone, or you boycotting a business) should be undertaken with extreme caution.  Speak with your “enemies” and try to convince them through rhetoric, or at least get them thinking about something they may have never thought about before you try to humiliate them, or destroy their lives.

Ok, I hope that is fairly clear.  Now, back to my complicated relationship with patriotism.

I love singing the National Anthem.  I love all the feels it gives me.  I love the ritual of standing, removing a hat, placing hand on heart.  I love the swell of the music.  I love the challenging range (I usually have to switch octaves as I’m a solid baritone-alto).  I love that the lyrics include a line about rockets (which can be conveniently timed with real rockets going off).  I love the picture that is painted by the poetry.  I love the hope and inspiration it gives me as I imagine that flag waving through all the chaos of battle.  I feel similarly about the flag it self.  I believe almost always in showing respect for what the flag represents, especially if I am surrounded by veterans who consider it a sacred embodiment of the sacrifices they gave and their brothers and sisters gave, some with their lives.  I love the theater of it all.  I love the whole thing.

But… I also think pledging allegiance to a flag, or any inanimate object, is silly.  A flag cannot do anything for you.  Its a piece of cloth.  Its a symbol of things, not the things themselves.  But I would take it one step further.  I think pledging allegiance to anyone or anything is silly.  More than that, I feel its dangerous.  Allegiance is beyond loyalty, which can also be tricky.  Allegiance means whatever it takes, you hop on board the train of obedience.  It is blind allegiance to a country, a king, a ruler, a government, or a flag that can lead to atrocities committed in the name of those things by unquestioning followers.  I never want to allow a pledge I made as a child under extreme peer pressure to determine the course of, or to define, my patriotism.

And I am a patriot.  I believe strongly in the ideals this country was founded upon.  I believe in the idea of self-determination.  That all men (and women) are created equal, endowed by our creators (whatever you want that to be) with inalienable rights to pursue happiness, be free, and to live unmolested by any one or any group (government included).  If I were to pledge fealty, it would be to those ideals, not to the government, and not to a piece of cloth.

But, for me, there is a difference between the Pledge of Allegiance and the Star Spangled Banner, which leads me to one of my criticisms of Kaepernick and his like-minded protesters. Let me first explain the differences before I reveal the criticism.  The Pledge of Allegiance is, at its core, anti-American.  I would never call a person who wants to pledge freely un-American, that is their free choice, but the concept of the pledge itself to me is strikingly antithetical to the idea of individual free expression. Its intent is to strengthen nationalism so that even the idea of questioning the Pledge is seen as subversion.  It is disturbingly similar to rituals dictators in totalitarian regimes demand of their captive citizens. These rituals usually begin by indoctrinating children before they can really question the idea of what it means to be a patriot.  It is an irony that the Pledge gained a resurgence during the 1950’s (when the “Under God” clause was added) as a response to the Cold War and anti-communist witch hunts.  To me, being a patriot is upholding the ideas enshrined in the Constitution and Declaration of Independence, and in the philosophy of individual self-governance that came before them, and has been refined since them.  The idea that each of us has but one life to give, and it is our own so long as we are peaceful.  The Pledge teaches us the opposite.  It teaches us how to collectivize our thoughts.  It teaches us to speak by rote memory, without thinking about or necessarily believing in the words.

But the National Anthem is different for me.  The Anthem is a celebration of those ideals this nation was founded upon and strives to achieve.  Its a recognition that one man watching a battle from afar can be moved to inspire others simply by writing powerful words.  Its a recognition that while we have never perfectly implemented the ideals the Founders fought for, we keep striving for them.  The Anthem should always be optional for free citizens, but it doesn’t demand our loyalty.  It only reminds us of what is worth fighting for.

That is where Kaepernick has it wrong.  There are serious problems in America.  No reasonable person can doubt that.  But the country is vast, and has also come a long way from where it began.   The lives of the people of color killed by police that he is protesting cannot be served justice by protesting the beautiful goals for the country our symbols, in particular those represented during the singing of the National Anthem at a sporting event, represent.  Protest the individual police departments that have done wrong.  Protest the politicians who enacted specific policy (or who fail to do so) that lead to some of the unjustices.  Protest the specific racists who keep us all in the past.  Agitate for legal reforms.  Give your time.  Give your money.  But don’t protest the vision.  Don’t protest the idealistic dream of liberty and justice for all.  Don’t protest the brave Americans who have risked and sometimes lost their lives to push us one step closer to realizing those goals encapsulated in our symbols.  It makes no sense, and will have no measurable effect except to make those locked in solidarity with you feel like they are doing something.  They are not.  Nothing meaningful will come from sitting or kneeling during the Anthem.  In doing so, “protesters” are only helping to conflate the idea that our dreams are the same as our reality.  The Anthem and our symbols represent the end game.  The goal we’re hopefully all wanting to achieve.  They don’t represent when we stumble, and fall down, and slide down the moral arc of justice a few notches.

I have a dream.  My dream is that while I would fight to the death for Kaepernick’s right to protest, I wish that he would realize he’s only further dividing us when we need the common bonds the Anthem symbolizes the most.

Peace,

PersephoneK

P.S.  Dear Mr. Kaepernick, you basically render your opinions about oppression and state violence moot when you wear a t-shirt supporting Fidel Castro. Please try googling stuff about him.  Hint: He’s a viscous, murdering dictator.

Kaepernick Loves Castro

Kaepernick Loves Castro

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Fighting Depression, Building Friends Up, Tearing Stigma Down

http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-photos-skull-dream-image23282383“It’s the same voice thought that … you’re standing at a precipice and you look down, there’s a voice and it’s a little quiet voice that goes, ‘Jump.’ The same voice that goes, ‘Just one.’ … And the idea of just one for someone who has no tolerance for it, that’s not the possibility.” Robin Williams, 2006 Interview with Diane Sawyer, ABC News.

I’m not a psychiatrist, or any type of mental health professional whatsoever. Just a regular, overthinking human trying to understand her place in the world while occasionally battling inner demons and alternately partying with inner angels. But like half the world, I’m caught up in the loss of Robin Williams to apparent suicide. It affected me in ways that surprised me. I wrote much of this post last December after a high school classmate of mine died suddenly. I never posted it. Mr. Williams’ death made me revisit it, add to it, revise it, and finish it.

There’s at least one thing I think needs to happen before we have a shot in hell at helping people overcome or cope with depression in a non-destructive way: recognize that depression and “mental illness” of varying kinds are fairly normal and common. All over social media people are imploring each other to “help those with mental illness.” I completely agree with the sentiment to help. What I disagree with is the laymen among us calling depression (and its cousins) mental illness.

Like I said, I’m no shrink. I’m not even going to argue about whether or not depression (clinical or otherwise), bi-polar disorder, anxiety disorder (pick your poison) are mental illnesses. That is for the scientists and mental health professionals to debate and decide. I’ll concede they are in the strictest sense of the word “illnesses.” But the rest of us average Janes and Joes need to stop calling them, or thinking of them, especially depression, as mental illness, or we have no hope in helping anyone afflicted. In no way do I mean to discourage anyone who is depressed from seeking professional help. I think all the tools in the toolkit should be on the table as an option, and each person must find their own path. But the reality is there can be very serious consequences for those who admit they’re struggling with something all too common. Stigma. A record of “mental illness” slapped on official documents. Loss of job. Never getting that job. Pity. Behind the back whispers. Humiliation. Loss of some rights. Even a trip to the mental hospital, or involuntary incarceration. For people to feel more willing to seek professional help, it starts with re-framing the entire thing. And it starts with us being there for each other. Really, truly being there for each other.

Suicide is not just an angsty teenager problem. According to the CDC, in 2010 (the most recent comprehensive data) there were 38,364 suicides in the United States. That’s an average of 105 per day. It’s the leading cause of death among those ages 15-24, second for those 25-34, and fourth for those 35-54. And people who are 45-64 years of age – Mr. Williams’ age group – tend to be the most depressed of all cohorts. One in ten adults report current depression. That’s ten percent. If you expand the range to adults with any type of mental illness, it jumps up to more than 18 percent (close to one in five). By comparison the total number of homicides in the same year was 14,772, less than half the number of suicides. That’s startling really. When such a large number of people are afflicted (right now, that doesn’t cover past affliction), I feel it does it a disservice to call the affliction an illness in every day conversation. Leave that to the medical professionals, but for us regular people, let’s just call it life. “Mental Illness”, especially depression, seems to be, for whatever evolutionary reasons, a part of the human experience. Perhaps a wide spectrum of experience, but a common experience nonetheless. We all have moments of mental torment, even if they don’t arise to the level of “illness.” Yet there is still such a stigma. Why is that? It’s easy to understand why some choose not to seek professional help, but why do we ignore the cries for help from those we love, and fail to reach out to willing friends when we’re the ones in need?
I’ve often wondered what it is that pushes a person to that final moment. I’m sure it’s different for everyone. I once watched interviews of survivors who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. They said the second after they jumped, already in freefall, they regretted it. I believe nearly all human minds are capable of being pushed too far, and of coming back from it. All of us. Not just the “mentally ill.” The tricky part is making it through the gauntlet of despair (each time we travel it) to learn this, and to remember it – and believe it — the next time we’re feeling at our lowest. After all, who among us has not been blue one time or another? I understand that clinical depression is different from sadness, but it’s a close relative. Robin Williams once said this in an interview when asked if he’d been diagnosed with Clinical Depression: “No clinical depression, no. No. I get bummed, like I think a lot of us do at certain times. You look at the world and go, ‘Whoa.’ Other moments you look and go, ‘Oh, things are okay.'”

I’ve often heard people make comments like “I can never understand why someone would” commit suicide, or “it always gets better,” or “it’s not worth it,” or “pain is temporary, death is forever.” Survivors are often angry with the deceased for being selfish. I can’t blame them. We all grieve in our own way, and almost no response to grief is really wrong. And suicide is a selfish act. But we have all had moments of selfishness.

I can only say, if you can’t understand that level of despair, I’m happy for you in a way. It means you’ve either never been in a truly deep and dark depression and/or you have a natural born mental toughness that many people don’t have. I used to think I had that kind of toughness. I was wrong. Almost four years ago, I was pushed to my near breaking point. I won’t go into the details in this post. I’m not sure I ever will frankly, as that may lead to another discussion of stigma I’m not ready to address publicly. For me, it wasn’t a sudden drop. It was gradual, came at me from many angles, and took many years of fighting through an intolerable (to me) situation followed by a severe trauma to my sense of self-worth. I believe my descent was probably obvious to most people who knew me.

At the time, I read a book called For Richer, For Poorer, by Victoria Coren, a writer and professional poker player. She talked about a time in her life when she was at her lowest, and she framed so perfectly what I was also feeling at the time. To paraphrase what she wrote, “it wasn’t that I wanted to die, but I didn’t want to keep feeling the pain.” When you’re at your lowest, it really is like a persistent physical pain. It’s all you can think about. You can’t think about what it will feel like when it’s better. You can’t remember what better feels like. All you have is the intense pain in the moment. That is what depression is. Combine depression with a momentary lack of impulse control, and disaster strikes. It only takes one microsecond of weakness to enter oblivion.
Those of you who claim not to understand suicide or even deep depression, can you honestly say you’ve never cheated on a diet, or missed a workout, or lashed out in anger? Have you always maintained 100% perfect discipline with everything you wanted to achieve? If you can say yes to that question, you may not be depressed, but you definitely have other mental issues. As Han Solo said, “I’m out of it for a little while, everybody gets delusions of grandeur.”

We all have moments of weakness. We all experience pain. Some of us just have more moments than others, and they manifest themselves differently in each person. Some people can recover more quickly. Some of us – the luckiest or heartiest among us — may never experience that trigger that begins our downward spiral beyond feeling a bit blue. I never reached that point of actually wanting to kill myself, but I stepped closer to it than I ever had before, and that was bad enough. I think of a quote I read once by Bryan Cranston, Breaking Bad’s Walter White, where he talked about understanding his character’s evil and capacity to do bad things. The GQ reporter asked him if he believed in evil, and Cranston responded:

“Yeah. I think it’s right next to good, inside every person… I had one girlfriend I wanted to kill… And I envisioned myself killing her. It was so clear. My apartment had a brick wall on one side, and I envisioned opening the door, grabbing her by the hair, dragging her inside, and shoving her head into that brick wall until brain matter was dripping down the sides of it. Then I shuddered and realized how clearly I saw that happening. And I called the police because I was so afraid. I was temporarily insane—capable of doing tremendous damage to her and to myself. “

While I don’t believe in supernatural evil, I do believe that we are all capable of dark things as well as beautiful things. Depression and suicide are part of that darkness. Sometimes they win us over. It only takes a second.

What can we do about it? Ultimately, that’s why I wanted to write this. I don’t proclaim to have the answers. I don’t think every, or maybe even most, suicides are preventable. I don’t think the living should blame themselves for the actions of our loved ones in their weakest, or most selfish moments. Our psyches are fragile creatures, easily frightened. But I think back to my darkest hours… and while there were friends occasionally asking how I was doing, at the time I felt abandoned.

I struggled writing that last sentence. In no way do I mean to condemn my friends, or tell them I think they were terrible, or make them feel bad in anyway. I’m sincerely sorry if any of them take this that way. It’s entirely possible – likely even — that my memory is clouded with the selfishness that is inherent with so much mental pain. When you’re depressed, all you can think about is yourself. It’s not that you want to think about yourself, it’s just really, really hard not to. Again… mental pain is not that different from physical pain. Try breaking a bone and not thinking about it. But I think we all (and I include myself here wholeheartedly) talk a big game in our culture about helping those with “mental illness,” or ending bullying, or preventing this or that tragedy, yet we often continue on with the same behaviors that make all of those things inevitable to continue. We talk about being there for each other, but how often are we really there?

Have you ever seen one of those “the most annoying things your friends do on Facebook” types of lists? There’s almost always something in the vein of “that friend who fishes for sympathy” category. I know I’ve fished. I know I’ve been annoyed by people who I see fishing. But why are we (raising my own hand here) so cold to people who are clearly crying out for attention? Is it because in our minds they are just narcissistic whiners who are otherwise perfectly fine? We think they should just “get over it” and “up their attitude?” Or do we just not care about them? I know with me, my annoyance increases the less close I am to the person. It makes me sad that a tool that could truly save people’s lives is still often just a vehicle for high school type gossip, and pushing people further down. All life is like high school I guess. That’s a shame.

Four years later, after a lot of biking-by-the-lake therapy, kitty cuddle therapy, and improvements in my overall life situation have made me begin to forget what that pain was like. I think when we’re in a happy place we judge those who aren’t more harshly, even when we’ve experienced near similar pain in our past. We get on with our lives, and tell ourselves that person will be ok, if we even notice their pain to begin with. It’s part of the human coping mechanism. Again, I’m just as guilty of this as anyone. But, I keep trying not to forget what I felt like during my rock bottom moments. I never want to feel that way, for that persistent a time, again. I am working on reaching out to people more when I need them. I have a long way to go. I recently lost my cat after a long six months of fighting for his life, and it devastated me. He really had been a bedrock that supported me through that dark time. He didn’t pass judgment, just snuggles. It’s difficult to pull a human friend into your inner demonic battles. Fear of judgment lies in the shadows. No one wants to be the cause of deep eye rolling in others (you’re this sad about a cat???). But we have to try.

On the flip side, I understand that it is difficult to be a friend and reach out to someone we see in pain. As an introvert who fears conflict and who does better with the written word than in person, reaching out directly to give help is more difficult for me than almost anything. Although Facebook and other social media can be loathsome vehicles for perpetuating pain, I believe they can also be amazing saviors. I have found friendships online that never would have existed. For myself, I have tried to recognize when my friends are fishing. At worst, not hold any ill will towards them, and at best ask them what is wrong, or give them a virtual hug. We all need a pat on the back – or massive bear hug — from time to time. Sometimes we need it often. Some of us need it more often than others. Some of us just haven’t hit that wall yet.

Thinking back to my own abyss, I wonder what might have helped me climb out sooner. It’s impossible to know for sure if anything would have. For me, I think my darkest moment of prolonged depression was tied very closely to a specific situation, and once that situation no longer existed, healing began. Even so, I can’t completely ignore some inherent traits within my biology that might make me more prone to relapse than others. But I think for me, the occasional thoughtful words “Do you need anything?” “I’m thinking of you?” “How can I help?” “Do you want to talk?” from friends have always gone a long way. Just knowing that someone out there had literally been thinking of me was sometimes all I needed to lift my spirits. Even if I didn’t take them up on their offer. Everyone is different. When someone would tell me “it’s going to get better” that honestly made it worse. I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn’t feel that? I logically believed what they said, but as Coren said, I just wanted the pain to end now. You can’t see the future when you’re in that kind of pain. You live in the moment. Sometimes acknowledging how much things suck is what you need. Sometimes you just need a friend to listen to your bitching without judgment. Everyone is different, and that makes it hard for friends and family to navigate.

It is difficult being a happy (at the moment) friend listening to a depressed friend drone on in selfish reverie. I’ve been on that side as well. We all have been on both sides. For me, healing took time (and frankly, it’s still happening, perhaps I’ll never truly heal, I’ll just scar over). For others, the struggle might just be a continual part of who they are. Needing constant maintenance. We’re all fragile in our own ways.

Ultimately, when someone takes their own life, they are responsible. They leave a swath of pain from that hasty, selfish moment in time that probably will never leave those who loved them. We can’t blame ourselves for what might have been, or what we didn’t do, even though we will. All I hope is that we forgive them, and not ignore each other, those left behind. We are all capable of losing track of what matters most in life. Those of us who took the final steps to end this short life far too soon, and those of us who remain… we’re all capable of darkness and light.

Robin Williams’ pain is gone. So is his capacity for joy and his genius to make us laugh. I will try to remember the lesson of his choice. We’re all flawed and beautiful creatures. We all need help from time to time. We all fail to recognize when to ask for it, and when and how to give it. I promise to work on improving those failings in myself. I promise to remember that we’re all merely human. I promise to try very hard to be a better friend. That’s all I can do. I hope it’s a start.

Peace,
PersephoneK

 

A freed Genie says goodbye to Al.

A freed Genie says goodbye to Al.

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X-Files Turns 20: “The Jersey Devil”

The Jersey Devil

Season 1, Episode 1×04

Written By: Chris Carter | Directed By: Joe Napolitano

Original Air Date: 10/08/1993 | Re-Watch Review Date: 12/26/2013

PersephoneKs ReWatch Grade: B- to B


JerseyDevil_MandSI’ve been off my game, but have a goal to get back on track with Project Watch X-Files Episodes in Sequence. Last night I watched season one’s “Jersey Devil.” Here are my general, unrefined thoughts:

This episode had previously been one of my favorites from season one. Upon re-watch last night… I’m sad to report its lost its luster a bit. It doesn’t hold up well after 20 years. It feels a little cheesy, despite wanting to be scary. And the Jersey Devil itself doesn’t live up to the hype the episode sets the audience up for. In short, the payoff is underwhelming. But there were some great character and Scully/Mulder relationship building moments despite the overall plot’s weakness. This is a rare episode where we get a glimpse of Scully in her non-working hours. In a sad way, it foretells of the way her life will be from that point forward. We learn she’s great with kids, but she’s caught between wanting a normal life with a good guy, and the career she’s building with Mulder (who’s not a jerk, just obsessed with his work). She tries to convince Mulder to relax, but it’s somewhat half-hearted. By the end, after her date with the dull Scott’s dad, Scully is following Mulder out to chase who knows what again. This will be the pattern for the rest of the show. Neither of them will get, nor do they really want, a simple life, despite occasionally thinking they do.

Not Scary.

Scary!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Odds and Ends:

  • Scully actually tells Mulder about this case.
  • Whenever I see the scene with Mulder asking to “requisition a car”, I get nostalgic for my time at HQ.
  • Ah… the classic FBI vs local cops theme!
  • CHArc:
    • Losers: Scully’s brown vest.
    • Winners: Scully looks pretty on her date, despite the top being dated. It’s nice to see her glamming it up a bit. But I’m glad her style improves in future seasons. Ai yai yai!
  • Favorite Quotes:
    • Scully to Mulder after bailing him out of the drunk tank: “Am I buying (breakfast) or did you manage to panhandle some change?”
    • At the end, Mulder asks Scully if she has interest in Scott’s Dad after he called her at work to ask her out. Scully responds “Not at this time” as she follows him on the next X-Files goose chase. It’s a cute interchange.
    • Scully calls Mulder back, he answers “Scully” and she answers “Mulder.” It’s funny.
  • Mulder uses a pay phone! Pre-cell phone season!
  • The scene where they chase the “devil” through the warehouses… way too long.
  • Dr. Scully!
  • I like the way the scene with Mulder in the ambulance comes together. It has an E.R. or West Wing style use of steadycam and overlapping dialogue before those were shows.
  • Why would Mulder rec a car to drive to the Smithsonian across the Mall from the Hoover building?
  • Overall, solid B- to B (and only such a good grade because you can’t blame them for the technology they had at the time).

Cheers,

PersephoneK

[easyazon-image align=”center” asin=”B000BOH986″ locale=”us” height=”160″ src=”http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/417KWOpekdL._SL160_.jpg” width=”115″]

What is this post about anyway? XFTurns20: Project Watch Episodes in Sequence

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Paying Tribute to Serious Themes in The Hunger Games: Catching Fire

CatchingFirePoster_MockingJay[quotepress id=”1428″]

Let me get this out of the way. I’m terrible at writing movie and book reviews. A good review isn’t a play by play of what happened, but rather a critique of the story, discussion of its themes, style, and execution. As much as I love films and books, you’d think I’d write a ton of reviews. Part of me wishes I would – or could. But the plain truth is I’m awful at them. I don’t want to mentally or physically take notes when I watch a movie or read a book. I want to enjoy the story. I think about its themes, usually heavily, but they swish around in my mind like clouds high up in the atmosphere, constantly changing and reforming, blending together to form new ideas over time. I see something different every time I look. Usually my thoughts about the stories are less than coherent or eloquent enough for someone to want to read. There’s no way I could write a timely review immediately after I finish a story or watch a film. Doing so would ruin the experience itself. Besides, I’d be sure to miss something important, and then the review is set in stone as if those were my only takeaways or thoughts for eternity. That would be annoying.

With that in mind, I wanted to share a few thoughts on The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, which I watched for the second time in a week last weekend (and will probably watch again), and The Hunger Games series in general. I loved the books, loved the first film, and think the latest film takes them all up another level. In short, I loved so much about Catching Fire. If you want to know my thoughts on some of the film’s details (like how amazing Jennifer Lawrence is as Katniss, or the improved quality of the direction and action over the first film, or how well the film adapts the book, or its attention to detail, or the delightful absurdity of Stanley Tucci as Caesar Flickerman, or, or, or…), ask me in the comments section, and I can go on and on. But for my time with you right now, I’d rather stick to some of the bigger themes of the entire series, focusing on the Catching Fire pieces most, and how my view of them might be different than what is generally discussed with these stories. For my more fangirl review of the first film, go here. But basically this “review” will be about what inspires me about The Hunger Games’ world and characters, and what draws me to re-watch, reread, and obsess over them.

Suzanne Collins (the writer of the novels) has said her inspiration for the story came from late night channel surfing, flicking between television reruns of reality show

s and war coverage. It’s so simple in conception that this would be writer is insanely jealous. From that simple merger of ideas, she created a deeply rich and layered world. This is the essence of creating believability, especially in what is truly a science fiction story, set in a future dystopia, a culture created from the wreckage of the vaguely explained collapse of society which included at some point in its history a nuclear holocaust and world-wide flooding (I suspect they came in reverse order), changing the landscape, shrinking the United States in area and in population size, and leading to the complete reformation of how society works, but with subtle reminders that this was once our current country. The world was remade over time spans unidentified (but would seem to be far in the future if the technology like hover crafts and giant game arenas with diabolical computer generated manipulations are any indication) eventually resulting in the current structure of the country called Panem contained within the former United States. Panem is divided into 12 (er… 13) districts, each ostensibly serving a specific resource niche for the shared resources of the entire country, but in reality mostly serving its Capitol and the totalitarian dictatorship, currently led by “President” Snow, that controls everything. The Capitol (probably located somewhere near present day Denver), along with one or two nearest districts, are rich and spoiled. Its people seem to want for nothing. They are consumed with outlandishly self-absorbed lifestyles, living in a bubble that is an enhanced distortion of present day Hollywood. They love their entertainment, fashion, and over the top parties. But most of all, they seem to love The Hunger Games, the annual Survivor-esque battle to the death between 24 children from each of the districts (one male and one female) aged between 12 and 18. The districts themselves, at least 3 through

12 keep the Capitol rich in resources and labor, but suffer the most in the Games. They are too poor to train “career” tributes who volunteer for the games in place of those who  are randomly “reaped” in a lottery, and who win almost every year. For the people of the districts, especially the outlying ones like District 11 and 12, the annual event is a reminder that they are powerless over the Capitol, and that two of their children are likely about to die in a brutal nationwide broadcast that is mandatory viewing. During the Games, as the people in the Districts starve, work intolerable hours, have little time for education, and suffer the carnage on live TV, those in the Capitol (seemingly not required to offer up their own children) wager on the outcomes, and cheer for their favorites. The sole survivors each year are lifted up as the ultimate celebrities for the rest of their lives, which are spent being paraded around year after year, reliving their victory, which came at the expense of 23 other young lives. They are forced to face the families of those they’ve slain in a Victory Tour, pretending to extol the Capitol, which makes them appear somewhat sociopathic to each District’s citizens, and likely eats away at the Victors themselves. We learn in Catching Fire that many of those Victors, don’t handle their success very well. In The Hunger Games novel, Katniss constantly talks about how she finds Haymitch, her mentor and previous District 12 Victor, as disgusting drunk. By Catching Fire, she’s joining him in a drink (which I was thrilled to see was included in the film as its one of my favorite scenes). Celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

It’s easy to see how most discussions about the meaning of the Hunger Games series is an indictment on our shallow celebrity culture, crass materialist excess, and how the impoverished and lowly masses are squashed while the Capitalist ruling class is propped up on their backs. Collins makes a point to use references to ancient Rome throughout her narrative. Many of the names of characters and places are taken directly from Rome.

Panem is the Latin word for bread, as in “panem et circenses” meaning “bread and circuses”, a critique of how the Roman political classes distracted the common people from engaging in serious politics by giving them bread and games, like gladiator fights to the death. For some, the Hunger Games represents the classic Marxist struggle of the bourgeoisie over the proletariat. The all-powerful Empire against the lowly citizen.

I don’t see the story this way at all, at least not in that exact framing. The truth, whether or not Collins realized this herself, is “bread and circuses” is a reference to the Fall of the Roman Republic into an autocracy. The elected politicians bought votes by diverting attention away from the concerns of politics and civic duty. The people were happy to have free grain and games and in return gave up their own power over the government by electing those who would take if from them. This eventually led to one man seizing power rather easily, and the Republic became an Empire. It would seem to me, that Panem has already had its transformation from Republic to Empire, but we’re beginning to see Rome’s Fall. The Visigoth’s are standing on top of the hill with their eye on Rome. They just need something – a spark of motivation, inspiration — to push them towards the gates.

For Panem, that spark is Katniss Everdeen, the heroine from District 12 and co-winner of the 74th Hunger Games, known to the people as the Mockingjay, a hybrid bird that was never supposed to exist, abandoned by the Capitol’s scientists to die when it didn’t serve their purposes, but which flourished on its own in freedom.

One reason I’m drawn to stories set in dystopian futures is that they are usually (intentionally or unintentionally) discussions of how collective societies destroy individual liberty, leading to the destruction of the society itself. Whether or not that was her intention, for me, that is exactly the world Collins created, and that is exactly the dominant theme in her stories as I see them. When we first meet her, Katniss is a coal miner’s daughter who loves to hunt. She regularly defies the rules to escape to the forest, ducking under the poorly monitored fences of her district so she can keep her family alive. She wants nothing more than to live a quiet, unassuming peaceful life volunteers for The Hunger Games when her 12 year old sister is reaped despite her name only being in the lottery one time (candidates can add their name to the bucket in exchange for food for their families). In that single act of uncalculated bravery she inspires a nation to stand up for themselves and be brave, too. This single individual act of selflessness, followed by a string of defiant acts within the arena itself, result in her being lifted up as a symbol of rebellion.

She is Panem’s Rosa Parks.

Like Parks who only wanted to rest her aching feet, not inspire a civil rights movement, Katniss had no intention of inspiring anyone to revolution. She only wanted to return home alive. Unlike her friend Gale, she would have been content to live out her life quietly, without causing too much attention, tolerating the tyranny of her government. That is just the way it is, in her point of view. When she breaks the law by hunting, or participating in the black markets, it’s purely for survival, not as a political act. When she “volunteers” (someone must go to the Games, they’re not voluntary), all she cares about is surviving so she can save her family both in the immediacy of saving her sister from the Games, and also to survive them herself to take care of them later. That’s all that matters to her. She is not a leader. She is not an idealist. She is rough and practical. She is a survivor.

In the first film, the night before they go into the Games, the other District 12 Tribute, Peeta says, “I just don’t want them change me… Turn me into something I’m not. I just don’t want to be another piece in their game… I just keep wishing I could think of a way to show them, that they don’t own me. If I’m gonna die, I wanna still be me.” Pragmatic Katniss replies that she can’t think like that. She needs to win because as sole breadwinner, she needs to take care of her family. Despite that, she does exactly what Peeta hopes to do. She risks her own oblivion in the rigged Games time after time by defying the Capitol (consciously or unconsciously), and like Rosa Parks, she becomes the symbol of a struggle she doesn’t organize or lead. In the first film/book, she does this by first showing kindness and respect to her fallen friend Rue, and later by convincing the Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane that she would rather die and deny them a Victor than kill Peeta to win. She rebelled against the Capitol when all she wanted to do was rest her aching feet.

In the second film, the Capitol intends to make her pay for inspiring the people to do the same.

Panem is both a fascist totalitarian dictatorship and a collective society. There appears to be commerce, but if it is not outright owned by the state, it is certainly controlled and manipulated by the state. The Districts serve the ruling class of the Capitol. There does not appear to be any democratic system of government, at least not with any real power. The “President” can determine who lives and dies on a whim. He can even change the rules of the annual Hunger Games, as we learn in Catching Fire when he forces an all-star celebrity death match in lieu of the traditional 12 to 18 year olds being drafted, thus breaking the agreement that Victors would live life in peace and comfort. The President’s power is absolute. Even the citizens of the Capitol are pawns to him. They may lead mostly frivolous lives, but even Hollywood starlets often have their lives controlled by the forces of their celebrity, something Haymitch explains to Katniss and Peeta when he tells them they will never get off the Victory Tour train. Their lives, as rich as they are now, will never be their own. I suspect many more in the Capitol feel that way than we are initially led to believe. Even Effie Trinket, a symbol of all that is shallow and air-headed in the Capitol’s masses, proves to be less clueless in Catching Fire as we and Katniss initially assumed. She’s merely made the best of the situation she’s been given in life. Year after year she watches her Tributes from District 12 get slaughtered. Any non-psychopath with a job like that needs to find meaning in it, or go insane. She puts on a happy face, but we see in Catching Fire that she is heartbroken by the situation Katniss and Peeta have been put into yet again. Perhaps the rest of the Capitol’s citizens aren’t what they seem to be either. None of them are truly free to be individuals, and speak out against the President or his government. They are not as free and distracted by bread and circuses as we thought. When the Victor’s all hold hands at the end of Flickerman’s interview show before the Games they shout out and boo, demanding that the games get cancelled. Even the normally unflappable Flickerman is visible shaken. And we see what happens to those who make statements against the President when Katniss’ friend and popular designer Cinna is beaten in front of her just before she’s thrown back into the arena.

I’m often surprised that people see Fascism and Communism as two opposite ends of the political spectrum, when to me they’re more like the ends of a circle meeting up like an Ouroboros, the head of the snake eating its tail. Each philosophy uses different tactics leading to the same conclusions. Ultimately in each, the state controls the individual. Yet even within Panem which is under the complete control of the Capitol, the people’s desire to be free is evident, and the failure of the government to provide what the people need – despite the entire country devoted to sharing its resources — is striking. Even the state controlled security forces known as Peace Keepers often look the other way and allow the people to do what they need to do to survive. It is through her own efforts hunting, and selling the game on the black markets that allow Katniss to feed her family. She even sells to the Peace Keepers on occasion. The state cannot even control those it employs directly. Katniss hides her bow and arrows in the woods because they are illegal for citizens to own. The citizens in each district have little control over their future professions, as each district serves one or two primary functions dependent on the resources of their region. There is little mobility between the districts, and any that exists is state sanctioned. This is a world with few choices, yet individuals find a way to do the best they can despite the odds.

Propaganda is the glue that holds the country together. We first see it in the film the Districts are forced to watch prior to the reaping, that Effie has memorized. And after their victory in the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta become national celebrities. They are forced to shill for the Capitol by extolling its virtues, and thanking it for the glory the Hunger Games allows for them. Yet, along the way she unintentionally continues to inspire individuals to risk their own lives as she and Peeta make their way throughout the districts on their Victory Tour. By showing compassion and kindness to Rue’s family, and by standing up for Gale during the live broadcast of his flogging, she inspires them more still. The citizens of Panem know what happens to anyone who defies the Capitol, but they rise up anyway. Even in the face of escalating brutality by the Capitol, and isolation from each other, they form a rebellion. The Hunger Games does indeed knit them together, but not in the way the President and his propaganda machine intend. On the surface, the reasons for revolt may simply be that the poor districts are tired of seeing their sweat and blood go to feeding the Capitol while they starve, and live in squalor. But starvation is merely a symptom of the greater loss of freedom. The citizens in the districts are not empowered to pursue their own dreams, and make their own lives better. They are not even empowered to turn off the television, let alone prevent their children from fighting to the death each year. They are powerless in every sense of the word, yet the black markets, hunting in the forest, and one girl’s choice to volunteer to die shows them that the individual always wants what the state cannot, or will not, provide. That despite the President’s rhetoric, his sole purpose is to maintain his own power, not care for and feed his people. As individuals begin to realize this, and want more than they are allowed to have, they begin to band together and fight for individual manifest destiny, and for each other. All it took was one defiant girl sparking a fire. One person really can change the world, even if they don’t want to.

Ask Rosa Parks.

Yet the road to liberty is paved with pot holes and protruding stones. Humans are complex creatures, capable of great virtue, and great sin. Sometimes we destroy those that matter most to us. I’m looking forward to the next film Mockingjay where these themes take interesting, and all too frequently true, turns by showing that even among the previously repressed masses, the seeds of corrupting power are difficult to control. That without concern for individual rights, and individual dreams, the tendency is for ambitious individuals to throw bread and circuses at the politically indifferent or misguided in order to distract them from their own rise to absolute power. In Mockingjay [vague spoiler alert], we will learn about the corrupting nature of the pursuit of power, the seeds of which are sown in the events of Catching Fire. We’ll learn more about how those caught in the crossfire, too often the average citizen and the young, are manipulated, damaged and killed in the struggle for power. In Catching Fire, Katniss struggles with PTSD caused by her experience in the first Games. She transforms from a symbol for rebellion into the tool for a new would-be dictator. She goes from being a piece in the Capitol’s Games, to a piece in the new power struggle. She wanted neither. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to live her life in peace. Perhaps in the end, at the end of the trilogy (or in the case of the films, the quad-ology), I hope Katniss will find herself in a world not controlled by tyrants who try to use her as a piece in their games of power, but controlled by individuals doing as they wish while living in peace. It only takes an accidental spark to light the entire corrupt, fragile system on fire. Eventually, even the absolute control of a despot cannot contain the dreams, or snuff out the natural rights, of individuals. When the powerless are inspired to take back what is rightfully theirs and recognize that their lives are their own to live, that’s when the human spirit rises up to its full potential. It is through individuality and self-determination that we become a better society as a whole. Forced shared values, forced shared resources isn’t virtuous. As Katniss repeatedly shows us in these stories, even when the game is rigged so that there can only be one survivor, human kindness finds a way to exist and thrive. That’s a lesson worth remembering.

Cheers,
PersephoneK

 

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X-Files Turns 20: “Conduit”

Conduit

i-want-to-believeSeason 1, Episode 1X03

Written By: Alex Gansa & Howard Gordon | Directed By: Daniel Sackheim

Original Air Date: 10/1/1993 | Re-Watch Review Date: 10/30/2013

PersephoneKs ReWatch Grade: B- to B


I couldn’t remember a thing about this episode before I hit play. Although the direction the show eventually went in made this episode somewhat disjointed, there were actually a lot of lovely things in this one. This episode allows Scully to really understand how Samantha’s abduction impacted Mulder. And its where we learn one of the true meanings for the shows motto, “”I WANT TO BELIEVE””. That stuff was well done.
Random Notes:
-Lake Okobogee (Iowa) has mountains! And aliens! And lots of loons!
-Mulder is assigned to FBIHQ, and reports to an ASAC and a Section Chief.
-NSA breaks into an FBI agents room while they’re there like it aint no thang, lol.
-Danny!
– CHArc Watch 1993: Scully wears white tights and carries a purse.
-Some really nice work in some scenes by David and Gillian.
-Rewatch Grade: B- to B.”

Cheers,

PersephoneK


What is this post about anyway? XFTurns20: Project Watch Episodes in Sequence

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X-Files Turns 20: “Squeeze”

Squeeze

Season 1, Episode 1×02

Written By: Glen Morgan & James Wong | Directed By: Harry Longstreet

Original Air Date: 9/24/1993 | Re-Watch Review Date: 09/12/2013

PersephoneKs ReWatch Grade: A


The very first Monster of the Week (MotW) still holds up as one of the best. Eugene Victor Tooms = creeptastic! This case also cements Scully as firmly on Mulders side of the Spooky camp. Mr. and Mrs. Spooky against the Bu mainstream is a fun ride and would become the norm.

Cheers,

PersephoneK


What is this post about anyway? XFTurns20: Project Watch Episodes in Sequence

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