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childishzombiejellyfish · 2 years

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Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t it ultimately turn out that Angela was a slasher movie villain who just happened to be trans? Like that had absolutely nothing to do with her actual motives for being a slasher movie villain?

spoilers for the trashy horror films, complete over-analysis, and I hope I'm answering your question within this, but also I wanna write about this for a sec

a small CW for those movies, homophobia, and transphobia. I'm not describing anything in detail:

In the first movie her motives are that the people she goes after are cruel to her (and to her cousin). in the last scene it's shown that she killed her love interest, possibly because he rejected her or she imagined some form of rejection (ironically like a reverse hate crime there), but we don't see it happening -

the last sequence for her is that she and the love interest go down to the beach (I believe at her suggestion) and take off their clothes. when the camp counsellors find them, she's killed him and is covered in his blood and you get that infamous last shot that's supposed to make everything clear to a transphobic audience

the original backstory is that her sister and father (who is canonically gay, and it's hinted this might have added to some form of gender/sexuality confusion? it's not very clear, so I choose to not read it like that, but it's what I think is intended) were killed in a boating accident, and she was raised with her aunt -- actually sidenote there, it's a tragedy on its own that we see her father clearly in a loving relationship with another man, but their relationship wouldn't be recognised, and so that man could never have gotten custody over Angela, even though he was clearly already a second father to the kids.... this movie has a habit of skirting around real queer life issues without, I think, realising it, but that's also where I get the things that interest me about it

in the first film the story goes "Angela is actually a boy who was forced to live as a girl by her insane? evil? aunt" which is something seen in a few other horrors (and in vice versa - girl forced to live as a boy kills). Oddly enough that's... really close to making a point about transness -- that is, imagine if you were raised in a gender that you weren't -- it wouldn't make you a murderer, but it is bad for your mental health, that's correct enough

of course, that's not the point of the movie, the point is that Angela's gender confusion has driven her maaaad [eyeroll], but I actually like the movie as a whole, because -- as others have said before me -- it feels more like Carrie than, say, Dressed To Kill or Silence Of The Lambs, in which the killer is always seen from the outside as a complete, monstrous, other

Angela, like Carrie, isn't the other -- she's the protagonist

Both kill their bullies

Both are young girls alienated from traditional girlhood

Carrie's insecurities (and powers) are exacerbated by the romance she's not sure is real

Angela's insecurities (and murders) are exacerbated by the romance she's not sure is real

Both of them are raised by domineering, abusive women

By the end both of them "go too far" but you see where it started (literally the first person Angela attacks is a grown man trying to sexually assault her)

There is something (unintentionally?) empowering about first-movie-Angela -- it's the age-old horror allowance for a girl to let go and be the monster that people imagine girls to be, and it's also a tragedy, because originally the girl didn't want to be a monster at all and the liberation comes at the cost of Society and Sanity (two things that are overrated anyway amirite)

NOW

I've only seen the second of the follow-up instalments, but I believe it's also the last one in which transness is brought up -- in the opening some camp kids joke about Angela coming to get them and one of them says she had gender affirming surgery in a closed ward (lol, imagines it's that easy)

and then it turns out one of the counsellors is Angela and she systematically kills all of the kids for various perceived "bad" things they do (like smoking, having sex, using bad language, etcetc)

I know there are some people who prefer this movie and the next ones, in which I presume she just does the same sort of thing, and I did quite like to see that apparently it's no big deal that she's trans + if you're gonna go cis casting, they did in fact continue to cast a woman, like in the first one (although now it's Pamela Springsteen, Bruce Springsteen's sister, which is amazing to me) + it semi-retcons that ridiculous "she's not a girl, she was forced to be one" narrative, which man, you write that sentence and it gets turned around in your head, right?

The sequel: "She IS a girl, she's chosen to be one" much much better!

where I think the follow-up is weaker is in lack of Theme. Angela, to me, feels less realised than the Angela in the first movie, whom I actually relate a great deal to, even though I'm not transfemme (one of the people she murders, albeit overly gruesomely, demands to know why she doesn't shower with the rest of them and accuses her of being "a dyke" and I was like "ah, here's where the transmasc and transfemme experience really comes together")

there are a lot of scenes I could write about here, that I actually felt really personal about, but I won't because it'd get tangent-y --

the first movie, to me, is an incredibly Queer movie, not just with Angela, but also with her father and his partner -- the "evil" when I watch it, is all too easily read as the heterocisnormative violence that surrounds Angela and that she's fighting back at. When she was a younger kid, living with a father and his partner, she had a happy life

I don't say this is the intention of the movie, but it has enough Theme that you can build lots of reads out of it (incl, in my head, that she was already transfemme and her aunt picked up on it). The intention is a cheap knock-off of all those other movies that think gender-confusion is a psychologically deep reason for someone to commit murder, because they're fucking stupid, but at the same time I unfortunately think horror depicts transness better than other genres (so far), because so much horror is all about confusing dark emotions about bodies, the feeling of being trapped, and the pain of liberation... Angela is like Carrie, or Ginger, or Jennifer, but also not too dissimilar to Final Girls like Laurie, or Sally (in fact, the maniacal Final Girl laugh/scream that Sally is so famous for isn't too dissimilar from the last shot of Angela's face)

the sequel was fine. I can pluck out this and that in terms of read, but I think glossing over and "moving on" from her transness makes the movie weaker. Of course, the alternative is a bunch of cis film-makers trying to write transness, so probably we're spared something much much worse, and I am still intending to watch the rest, but I'm not personally a fan of "this person happens to be..." plots, because it feels contextless and narratively unfocused to me

In a way-too-broadly-cast opinion here (and there are plenty of outliers), if there is a main trans character, or a character of any gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, class background, ability/disability, body-type etcetcetc. I think those things need to matter in the text, because they matter in real life -- and not in a "woe is me" way (although, sometimes that is the case), I mean mainly in a cultural way and in a self-awareness way -- how does Angela's transness affect the way she sees the world?

I think the closest I can get is that Angela of the sequel has overcorrected herself -- she has Learned how to be a correct person/woman (and conveniently shut herself out from experiencing the world) and now she wants to teach others the same. This is text, but it's not really delved into in any way, this is just what she does now, and possibly a side of "she never left that camp emotionally"

I wish she didn't try to have some moral high-ground, because it traps her again. I'd love for her to let loose, because of the belief that nobody can stop her! I want her to feel invincible. I'll see if the next movies give me that, but I do also wish her transness wasn't gone, because then I might as well be watching a cis woman, which isn't why I'm here -- I'm here to watch something Queer

and here is where I end my ramble!

I think it's a matter of personal taste. If you wanna watch Themes, the first one is better, if you wanna enjoy a rampage without having to endure transphobia, the sequel/s your go-to

TL;DR in the first movie Angela's transness does play into her motives, but not in the subsequent movie (nor, I believe, in the movies after that). There are upsides and downsides to skirting over Angela's transness, but it's all about what floats your movie-watching boat

#sleepaway camp #angela baker #i woke up and i wrote this i havent had breakfast yet so that's the next thing on the list #im actually writing a thing in which carrie and angela are girlfriends

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golvio · 7 years

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I mean, there are ways that “Lord of the Flies but with Girls” could work. You could use a similar premise to deconstruct modern concepts of femininity, and how girls are turned against each other for the approval of others, even imagined others. It could be an examination of how the “niceness” girls are pressured to conduct themselves with isn’t really all that nice, and how repressed rage can mutate into downright sadistic behavior. Girls can be downright cruel to each other, and in extreme cases that cruelty does extend to physical violence, witch hunts, or mob brutality, as we’ve seen in the past month. Not to mention all the ways that supposedly wholesome concepts like “motherhood” and “nurturing” can be perverted, and how some of the most shocking abuses can occur behind the closed doors of the home, committed by women who supposedly love their victims, whether their victims are their own children, their lovers and spouses, or their aging parents who were left in their care. The seeds of future violence in young women’s lives is something that should be explored, I think, because it’s so rarely talked about, and when it does appear it’s presented as some horrific anomaly and then quickly swept under the rug to be forgotten.

The thing is, character studies of teenage girls or examinations of female friendships by adult men don’t typically turn out to be accurate reflections of the teen girl experience; in the hands of less talented or unempathetic male authors, they’re usually little more than commentaries on the author’s attitudes towards young girls and their own frustrated adolescences. They run the risk of turning into commentaries on how The Modern Generation (Especially Fee-hee-heeeeeee-males) is Vapid and Ridiculous, or Teen Gurls R Meen and Cry for No Reason Amirite Guyz lol (why couldn’t i get a girlfriend when i was 13 :CCC ).” Most of the authors I’ve read who have actual insightful things to say about the lives of young girls are authors who have actually experienced young girlhood firsthand.

It’s an interesting concept, and I feel like woman’s inhumanity to woman is something that warrants exploring, as women aren’t saintly beings who never hurt flies. However, I’m not sure if I’d trust two dudes to execute it well, especially if they’re selling it as just a gender-flipped version of a book where the gender and race of the children involved was a part of the book’s main thesis, as opposed to a work with its own thesis that just so happened to be inspired by Lord of the Flies.

It’s best to reserve one’s judgment until the book is actually published. For all I know, they could be doing extensive research behind the scenes and interviewing a lot of the young girls in their lives to deepen their empathy and understanding for their characters, but they’re not exactly doing a good job selling the book to potential readers. If they actually talked more about what made it so different rather than just “it’s different because it’s girls,” then maybe more people would be convinced to give it a chance.

#literature #abuse tw #child abuse tw #abusive parents tw #domestic violence tw

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findingmyami · 6 years

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Code White.

I had hoped that having a blog would inspire to me write more, even just a little. I set a laughable goal of writing one post per day and, as it turns out, inspiration does not respond to such demands. My inner creator is a diva and a rebel and a procrastinator. I love her madly, though.

For me, today, motivation exists in the quiet milestones that creep up in the dark of night. Yes, folks, it is time. My tiny one, "The Golden Baby" as the older kids have dubbed her, turns one tomorrow.

No one could have prepared for me for the sadness that's consumed me. When your last baby turns one, it really is a goodbye.

Sure, I know she will still be a baby tomorrow and for a while longer. She's not yet walking, she babbles incoherently, naps 2 times a day, and is most at peace in the soggiest of diapers. To her, I am still all that matters (to be the sun, the moon, the stars for someone else-- it's intoxicating!) and I don't see that changing soon. But something is shifting, and it brings me to my knees. This birthday is a symbol of a season of my life that I will not be reliving. It breaks my heart while it sets me free.

The most sobering thought in all of the ache I feel so acutely, is that some mothers don't reach this milestone with their babies. And while modern medicine rescued us from such a fate, allow me to relive the very close call that was the birth of Zelda Antoinette Fleck (also referred to as Zelda Internet Fleck by her dear sister, Louise). I apologize in advance (I don't). I love a good birth story. I love to tell all of mine and I love to hear others'. The more graphic and emotionally debilitating, the better!

Where were you one year ago tonight? Aside from still reeling from the terror of election season, you were probably in Christmas mode, praying that some sort of recount would come through in a post apocalyptic pinch, and searching Pinterest for Elf on the Shelf ideas.

I was having butt pain. I didn't know (or maybe I plumb forgot) that one could have contractions in one's butt, but you can and I did. 5 days overdue, and this not being my first rodeo, I knew what was happening. So I snuck into my girls' bedroom and climbed into bed to snuggle my Louise, my soon-to-be middle child, but for that moment, still my baby. I alternately wept and winced the night away.

By morning the contractions were still very far apart and I was already very uncomfortable and tired and was hit with the realization that seems so obvious but sneaks up on me every time: a lot of pain needs to happen before this is over. Women are incredible. Just going to throw that out there.

I texted my ladies to let them know that they may need to be at the hospital at some point that day. I tried to watch reality T.V. while I sat in our jacuzzi tub but every voice just made me irritated. No rich bitch problem could ever be bigger than my current problem.

By late afternoon the timing seemed right to head to the hospital. I was feeling really cute and in control, and planned to imitate Louise's birth exactly. Get to hospital around 4, be at 3cm, steadily climb to 5cm, get epidural, watch Patriots game/Joan Rivers documentary, Love my life, eat grilled cheese, hold court from my birthing room. Adorable.

The moment you are told that the kind of pain that makes you cry has not brought you to 1cm and you must in fact, GO HOME, is a moment that cannot be soon forgotten. I loathed everyone in that hospital, husband included. As we approached the hospital exit, we met up with my mother-in-law (currently working a shift). With great joy and hope in her eyes she told me how incredibly strong I was. I probably wanted to hate her, but how could I not want to cling to those words with every pained breath in my body?!

We ordered Crow Point, I ate chicken alfredo in the bathtub in between contractions, and in 2 hours I was screaming. I was afraid we wouldn't make it to the hospital.

Every bump we hit, every red light we stopped at, every terrible song on the radio, was all Tom's fault. He took it like a gentleman and apologized profusely for existing.

When I arrived at the hospital, I discovered I was 8cm and climbing fast, and it was kindly related to me that there would probably be no time for the epidural. "The pain that got you here will get you the rest of the way!" Um, what? Did they teach you that in midwifery school? Not the reassurance I was looking for. The kind I'm looking for comes in a gigantic needle and you are going to get it for me so I can hang out with my friends before I have yet another human to care for. Speedy anesthesiologist for the win.

My dear friends, who are like sisters, really are my sisters, but are not in fact biologically mine, arrive and all is well. In my drunken lack of pain, I apologize to my nurse for lying and saying that they were my sisters. "I'm gonna level with you, Monica..." Real class act I am.

My vibe was really harshened from there. Monitors, beeps, muttering, repositioning, I took no notice until I heard, "Things are going to move really quickly from here." I was rushed out from there and the rest is history. Narrowly avoiding 2 C-sections, 2 times (Delia=distressed baby, Louise=gigantic baby) number 3 was gonna be the one to do me in.

My mother-in-law (a NICU NP) had already arrived on the scene due to meconium staining so she walked beside me as they wheeled me down the hall. I tried to gauge how worried I should feel from her normally spirited eyes, the rest of her face covered by a mask, but I saw only steadiness tinged with concern.

A strange sense of calm came over me in that moment I was first laid on the operating table. I just talked to that baby (I didn't yet know the gender) and told it to hang on and that I loved it so much and would love it forever but just please hang on and be okay so we can be together. As my husband cried and was visibly panicked, I reassured him without tears, we will all be fine.

As they pulled her out I heard delight and the reassured voices of medical professionals who saw a healthy baby whose umbilical cord was draped in such a way that a vaginal birth just wasn't in the cards.

I awaited as the gender was to be called out. This could be a post in itself. I am so glad I didn't know this baby's gender. During gestation we formed a bond that transcended labels and societal restrictions and familial expectations. It was pure love. I wanted nothing but the chance to love this baby and give my girls a sibling. I assumed it was a girl, thought maybe it might be a boy, and truly did not care either way. It was a freedom I wish I had given myself before.

I waited. For the gender. To be called out. Tom could not stop crying to make this possible. In that moment, I wished they had given someone else this vital job. Finally I hear him sob, "I would say it's a girl!" Those words were magic to my ears. What was happening to Tom's eyes however, was not so magical. His own telling of Zelda's birth always includes the words "poop smeared vagina" and while I won't take away from this experience, there's gotta be a more magical way to phrase that. Meconium covered girlhood, anyone?

My mother-in-law told me the baby was fair and beautiful, with the long fingers of a piano player, and was so sweet. I ate up this description as I ached to hold her. When that angelic face was placed next to mine, the whole world fell away. Tom and I locked eyes and I was consumed by my love for him, for our family. We did it. Again.

I love you, Z. And I would do it all again, over and over, to have you. You are my pocket pal, my fiery ginge, my sweetheart. You complete our family in a way I never saw coming. We are better, and happier, and more tired, because of you. Happy 1st.

Post Script: I guess post-birth is not an essential part of the birth story, but holy shit getting your intestines put back in while you're conscious is no joke, amirite?!

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