OnLine With Zoe

Get me a Piece of Vanilla, Milquetoast, BS Pie

Imagine if the film industry took every meaningful, inspiring, insightful and incite-ful story and made it G-rated, a box office success and shaved off every bit of thorny truth or multi-layered complexity.  Imagine if a writer misrepresented a real person and retold a historic event to suit themselves.  Maybe it is their right to do that, to show one side of a life, but a tragic loss occurs when a generation believes that the sanitized version, the mischaracterization, the fantasy re-telling is the actual reality.

Every year around Women’s Equality Day, the best of people advise us to watch Iron Jawed Angels.  Every year I comment that Alice was so much more.  Not only was she more than the movie character but the striking inaccuracies reveal a warped bias on the part of the movie makers.  They made up a male interest.  They made up a Congress member’s wife.  They imply that Alice had some kind of melancholy about not having children (the fictional boyfriend is a widower with a son who charms Alice).  But, more importantly, what is lost in this fantasy?  What is the viewer robbed of?  That is the real tragedy.  Who was this strong, mouthy, brave, relentless, sometimes divisive woman?  It is my position that the fluffy interpretation negatively impacts every American woman who would have found camaraderie in the true fire and soul of Alice Paul.  I would go so far as to say that the pink hat wearing, gum chewing, bumbling character is held up to be an example as to how far an acceptable woman can veer from lady-like behavior.  Read a book and you will see what it actually took for her to accomplish the 19^th Amendment, how she stood trial in 1917, her demanding leadership style, she did not suffer fools, she was not anything near the Hillary Swank edition.

Now the identical thing will be happening around May 22, Harvey Milk Day.  Oh yes, the movie Milk won an Oscar, starred Sean Penn, was truly moving.  I have watched it 6 times, at least.  But if you watch The Times of Harvey Milk and then watch Milk - ask two questions: What is the difference in these two representations of Harvey and what is the impact to future generations if they believe the man portrayed in Milk is the whole picture.  The fictionalized Milk epitomizes the very thing that is a terrible problem in the LGBT movement; it shows a single issue man on a single issue mission.  The Times of Harvey Milk shows Harvey working with labor, with women, with seniors, with people of color and imparts to the viewer that being gay was one facet of Harvey - he was the Mayor of Castro before it was a mecca for gays.  He was inclusive and open; something the LGBT movement could surely use today.  My hope is that high schools that do celebrate Harvey Milk Day will watch BOTH movies and have a real lesson plan that identifies the differences in these movies.   

Most recently I sat in a theater and watched, The Help.  Loved it.  Loved the casting.  Loved the poster.  Loved the sets, the clothes, the chotchkies, the music.  But I am 63 and lived through that period and I know that the entire movie from start to end was one vanilla, milquetoast, BS pie.  It has nothing to do with the facts of prejudice, poverty, politics of that time.  Madger Evers murder was some little wispy mention, a black woman leaving her abusive husband was a flick solved with some deep fry and what’s more fun than not allowing a woman to use the loo – a knee slapping good laugh; pass the popcorn.  Hollywood will surely have a 5 minute reprieve from sexism during Oscar season, as The Help gets a dozen nominations.  Can’t you just picture all of the bigotry and anti-woman business of the industry being whitewashed on the red carpet.  And what of this movie being used as a teaching tool?  Gee, wasn’t the 60’s just a lot of good music and silly women acting all clique-ky.

Notable exceptions validate a wish that non-documentary films can tell the truth.  Sir Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi was meticulously scripted and shot.   In fact, the book, Gandhi, A Pictorial Biography shows the shots side by side; Patel, Nehru, Kasturba, Jinnah, the ashrams, the courtrooms, the jails – all painstakingly accurate.  Certainly Gandhi the man was infinitely more complex than this movie but it is not dishonest, sanitized, fictionalized and offers the viewer genuine inspiration. 

Martin Scorsese’s Kundun, portrays the life of the 14^th Dalai Lama from ages 2- 24 with astounding accuracy.  Particularly significant is that many of the actors are direct blood relatives of His Holiness, the Dalai Lama.  You can be sure that the ceremonies and traditions are accurately portrayed.  

I love movies.  I love social justice.  I worry that cute is painting over pure.  I worry that polite is being advanced as possible.  I worry that women, in particular, are being corralled by darling little shots of Ben teaching Alice to drive.  I worry when Hollywood makes a movie that implies that the Civil Rights Movement was a wonderful success and, golly, wasn’t it just a lot of fun.    

The Movement Marches On

On September 14, 2009 I noticed a post on facebook by a woman who was looking for people going to the National Equality March.  She was going to be making a documentary about it.  I rang her number to tell her about a friend of mine, Melinda Tremaglio, President of Palm Springs NOW, dyke extraordinaire, who had filmed the 1987 March.  Melinda and I might have been the two oldest broads going but we would not miss any march for equal rights.  As the story goes, after two and a half hours on the phone, Laura McFerrin hung up believing that I would be one of the principles in her film, March On. 

Armed with my flip camera and a todo list I took pictures of packing, flying, landing and walking in the National Equality March.  I stayed at the Washington Court as it was the closest to the Sewall Belmont House, my favorite building in DC.  Melinda stayed there too, as did several of my feminist sistas.  Night one, I met with the director, Laura McFerrin, for the first time.  We all crammed into my studio room; sound boom, film crew, interviewer.  It was bloody late, we talked for a very long time and off they went.  

October 11, 2009, meeting ten feminists who move the world, we gathered at Alice Paul’s house, walked her halls and touched her desk.  And, poof, it was off to the March.  Meeting with my NOW friends at a specified address, we collected, we wrapped ourselves in rainbows and embraced our shared mission; equality.  I “flipped” walking and flipped again when I got back to my room.  Late that night I met with the crew to drop off my flip footage and de-brief on camera.  A bit of sight-seeing the next day, a long flight home and all of it was just a mark on a square on my desk calendar ~ and It was back to the daily minutia of building equality, one minute at a time.  For two months I didn’t hear from the crew of March On and thought c’est la vie.  There is plenty to do and that was that.  In late December a member of the crew, in whom I took a particular interest, called to ask about visting on the 26th.  To my surprise, she brought a tripod with a list of questions and told me that I was not cut out at all.      

And now I have flown home again, this time from the world premiere of March On.  Opening with Melinda’s footage from the “1987 Great March,” ending with the 2009 National Equality March and a call to action, March On tells the story of the Movement, the longing, the people who simply cannot settle for second class citizenship.  Original music and diverse stories by current day families who “flipped” their lives as well as filmed by Laura McFerrin, March On is the movie I want the movement to see.  The Movement needs to see.  Families and communities need to see. 

We cannot go to Arlington in 25 years asking the president for equality.  We cannot ask our queer youth to just hang on, live in the streets and survive while we party.  We cannot deny full equality under the law for any American.  Want to understand what this movement is about?  Want to show your family and friends what this movement is about?  Want to see the laying Quilt to the bravery of Dan Choi and witness how long this has been going on?  Want to meet couples whose lives demonstrate what it is we are marching for?  Then you will love March On.  It is your documentary. 

Out Love, not Out Rage

I saw Outrage on Friday.  Besides being supportive, I was curious.  I am always looking for agreement, camaraderie, unity.  I found the movie’s premise lost under the weight of the title.  Even watching the movie makers on the View that morning, it wasn’t readily obvious that author and blogger, Michael  Rogers was objecting to closeted people voting against their very people they have relationships with.  Closeted gay men in politics are voting against HIV/AIDS funding, against gay marriage, against making crimes against LGBT people a hate crime.  It is the chasm between their sexual orientation and their visible, measurable, callous voting record.  Frankly, for me, it begs the question, would they be less stalwart if they were straight.
 
The characters in the movie, opening with Larry Craig, were all recognizable.  Those of us who read gay news are aware of these men and their voting records.  I have to admit, I have zero idea what this looks like to straight people.  Heck, I got emails this week asking me if Adam Lambert is gay – straights see things very differently than I do.  Governor McGreevey was bright, radiant – no really – like someone who just discovered deep spiritual relief.  Governor Crist was slimy and resistant; what is the opposite of present? 

A paragraph  on women ~ Elizabeth Birch of the Human Right Campaign was terrific, moving and honest.  Rep. Tammy Baldwin of Wisconsin was open and relaxed.  Oh but the wives, the terrified wives, standing next to the pathetic closeted husbands at counterfeit press conferences; Mrs. Craig, Mrs. McGreevey, Mrs. Crist.  Actually there are thousands of straight spouses who are trapped infraudulent lives,  holding their families together.  How the gay spouse can do this is really beyond me.  I kissed a girl, I liked it and I came out; all within about 5 seconds.   And it is no secret that there are many, many lesbians and bi women in politics ( no I have not slept with all of them) but I can tell you that I have never seen them vote against LGBT rights or human rights for that matter.
 
But what really bothered me, deeply bothered me, was one clip of Larry Kramer, beloved founder of Act-Up.  Certainly this brave hero of the LGBT movement said dozens of quote-ables during the taping but what they chose to show was Mr. Kramer saying that activism comes from rage, from anger.  For me it was like hearing nails on a chalkboard.  I have spent over 40 years working to deepen my understanding and practice that successful, lasting activism comes from love.  You cannot convert the opponent by burning his car, breaking her windows, clubbing their kids.  Fear will never create conversion.  (aren’t we having a national conversation about torture on this right now?)

However, more importantly, the oppressed will become poisoned by the violence.  The minority has to find love in their heart and become irresistible.  That is the only way to create a healthy movement, a true lasting conversion and extinguish fear.  I was fortunate to spend some time with Jeremy Gilley, the British filmmaker who is creating International Peace Day, through his film-making of Peace One Day and The Day After Peace.  I told him that I am not as worried about those who die by gunshot as I am about those who pull the trigger as they live on with their hearts broken.  Violence is intoxicating, contagious and another disease – like homophobia.
  
Tuesday, May 26 is California’s Day Of Decision.  On Facebook, the White Night Riots video has been viraling around.  I want to tell people that clearly those 1979 riots did not work or we would not be rising up for our rights in 2009.  Releasing of violence may be billed as good for you but it isn’t.  It is not some limited energy that must be spent.  It is a viral, burgeoning disease that only attracts itself.   If you are angry, you deserve to be loved.  If you are homophobic, you need to love and be loved.  No matter what happens on Tuesday, extinguishing  anger with love is the only way that will last.  

Got MILK?

Its Friday – its the movies.  I sat in the second row center, I moved up an extra row to be really alone.  Good thing as I was weeping audibly.  I always bring a blanket incase it is cold and it was a big hankie today.  How much can you forget?  It changes every day ~ sometimes its a lot and sometimes its nothing at all but today it was just tucked away, waiting to be remembered, filled with emotion, bursting with memories, so much – too much. 

I knew MILK would be spectacular; Sean Penn, gay rights and Gus Van Sant.  Several people wrote me and said it was great.  Unexpectedly the last third of the movie knocked me out.  In 1978, my little bookstore was one of the primary organizing HG’s for the NO ON 6 campaign.  John Briggs was all over the OC and Anita Bryant was so much fun to mock.  We boycotted Florida Orange juice and hotly debated the ethics of “outing.”  We sold the Advocate, sold Holy Near tickets and never considered being closeted.  We were out lesbians in the middle of Newport Beach, Orange County, California.

As the movie portrays, we thought that we were going to lose; particularly in the eye of the OC.  It was a shock that we won.  The queers won.  We were going to be fully accepted, integrated and de-stigmatized.  State by state, county by county, family by family; as we came out, we certified our social membership.  I remember telling people, who had not come out, that they would be supported by those of us who were out.  Coming Out was all it was going to take.  Women and men gathered at The Magic Speller Bookstore.  We all enjoyed the lesbian and gay books, the fantastic bars and believed that the heavy lifting was over. 

Of course, within a few weeks Harvey was shot and the “twinkie defense” was more egregious than “if the glove fits, you must acquit.”  With Simpson, it was one man and a tight circle of people effected but the murder of Milk left thousands of us ignited, incited and in various levels of exposure in work, home and families.  My life was as blessed then as it is now; I was out, my girlfriend was out and we were safe.  I publicly testified at a Newport Beach City Council meeting as an out lesbian and no one in my neighborhood was visibly upset.  The store was never vandalized.  Briggs lost, Bryant lost, queers won. 

Twenty days or so, from the elation of the defeat of the Briggs Initiative and the assassination of Harvey Milk.  Twenty days or so, to dance with joy and come out to one’s self and all whom one loves.  It was brief, reelingly brief.  That shot did not instantly galvanize the movement, that takes time and radiates from progressive places (The Castro) to conservative homes (Montana) at a snail’s pace.  AIDS was the gasoline on that fire in those rosary praying, bible thumping homes.  (and you may recall Mr. Falwell kept that bullshit going right through 9/11 and Katrina). 

So I just wept.  Second row center.  Dec 5, 2008.  It sort of all runs together, like a Jackson Pollack (whom I can’t stand).  No Harvey, thirty years later it is not all done; it seems to just be getting started.  And I heard you say, its not politics, its a movement.  Sure seems slow.  Too slow. 

Women, not Angels

About a week ago I was invited to speak after a showing of Iron Jawed Angels.  I am very forthcoming about the movie; its ridiculous fabrications, the manipulative music and, most importantly, what the facts are.  I spent a lot of time putting together an abbreviated PowerPoint with emphasis on the movie plot line.  Since I was invited by a women’s studies group, I believed it would be an audience interested in the fight for the Susan B. Anthony Amendment and the women who waged it. 

When the movie was over, a history professor was introduced who was going to take questions.  I was rapt.  I never learned any of the things I know about the American Women’s Movement in a classroom and this was a welcome opportunity.  She began to explain that films tell you what to think, that the facts are unknown because it is the past, that there is no way to know what they wore, how they behaved or what was their intent.  She continued about the use of music that was not from that period and drew some conclusion about Hilary Swank as she was in Boys Don’t Cry – though never expressing any regard for Brandon Teena.

Ok, yes, I blew my lid.  I raised my hand and said that I had been invited there to talk about the film.  She said I could say a few words.  I said that you could definitely know things about Alice Paul ~ you can talk to people who knew her, I would furnish the phone numbers.  There are photos and letters and that the movie is based on a book, whose author is very much alive.    

I struggled to set up my projector, computer and presentation.  It was a packed room.  I opened with, “I feel like I am in some alternative universe as I usually speak to feminists, activists, people who are interested in political action and social justice.  I am not accustomed to addressing people who look at this as an art form with all the latitudes of artistic expression.  The devices, fabrications and outright fiction in this movie are known and worthy of discussion."

“You are the sequel.  That is both the good news and bad news.  The worst thing the movie does is represent this information as if it is all done.  Within three years of the passage of the 19th Amendment, Alice knew that women needed a lot more than the vote, they need to be explicitly included in the US Constitution.  The job remains unfinished and the biggest problem we have is that most people think the ERA passed and that women are in the Constitution.”

I have seen the movie at least 12 times.  I am beyond kvetching about the manufacturing of the boy friend, Doris Stevens stealing him, Alice implying that she could have him back when Doris is in jail.  He comforts Alice saying that Doris is having “the time of her life,” and she will write a book.  (I wish they had read it.  It is real; Jailed for Freedom.  It does make me freak to see Alice tying the boy’s shoe laces to a snappy rendition of “Ain’t she sweet.” 

Ok, Katherine Leighton is fiction but serves a descent purpose giving voice to rich wives who risked their security and possibly losing their children by joining the movement .  Ben is made up entirely which is particularly aggravating as he mocks Alice driving and finally gets her to take off her pink silk hat (oh barf).  Why not talk about the actual men who supported suffrage?  And why did they chose to portray Susan B. Anthony as sharing in the raising of Stanton’s children – her letters make it pretty clear – she wanted Elizabeth to stop with the kids and get on the road for suffrage.

Why not talk about Jeanatte Rankin, first woman elected to Congress, sole vote against the war and called for an investigation of the Occoquan Women’s Workhouse?   Why not talk about the extraordinary women; Alice with a Ph D; Inez, refused at Harvard Law as she was female, earned a law degree at New York University. 

And what is the harm?  Ask Hillary Clinton.  Strong women, brilliant women in a life long battle for human rights are infantilized, trivialized and sanitized only contributes to the castigation of opinionated, capable, aggressive, dedicated women.  Someone tell Tim Gunn what he does when he (an accepted gay man) describes Hilary Clinton as “dressing gender-confused.”

So much was good about the story and, even, in the movie.  Doris Stevens gazing at the State House ceiling at “the Apotheosis of George Washington,” in which women circle the heavens.  The allusion to Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman in watching Katherine Leighton hide her little leather bound journal of poetry.  The brutality of the force feeding.   

My favorite scene is Alice listening to the ghost of Susan B Anthony while placing her ear on Susan’s desk.  I almost lost it when I stood in a room with Alice Paul’s desk.  It is not done, it is a long, arduous relay of activists and visionaries.  To the college kids I have the privilege to address I want to say - this one central message ~ As Alice’s desk whispered to me ~ YOU ARE THE SEQUEL. 

The very best of Sicko

I loved Sicko, but then I love Michael Moore.  This little clip is my most favorite moment.

It is one of my dearest dreams that everyone who has not voted, VOTES.  Can you imagine if all of the poor, the hopeless, the disenfranchised voted?  What would happen if everyone 18 - 29 voted or all women?  Just seizing power, which is rightfully theirs, would scare the power brokers out of their minds.   

85 Minutes spent well

It is Friday.  It is movie day.  My favorite theater re-opened with all new seats and clean floors.  I went to see Once.  I knew zero about it, just that it ranked very high on Rotten Tomatoes.

So here's the deal, 85 minutes and no one got beheaded, no one screamed, no one drove their car into another, no one flew off a roof, no one farted or barfed, no one was made of metal, no swords no guns, no knives, no one cut off a dick and fed it to a dog.  Can you believe it?  That alone is worth the price of admission. 

I forgot what tenderness can be on a screen.  I forgot what a whisper, a glance, a moment captured looked on a screen.  And can you imagine a loving mother, grandmother, father?  Sober friends enjoying A COUPLE of beers.  Simple clothes, common streets, a dog and a sunrise and NO meant NO.  Holy Mother of God ~ NO MEANT NO.

And if that isn't enough; songs, gorgeous songs about love and life.  I began to remember what it was like to be touched lightly, kindly, deeply at the movies.  You must see Once - maybe Twice.

Double Feature

I had to make up for a couple of weeks, so today I went to two movies.  Although I don't like admitting it, I am still baffled about them.  It just seemed so odd ~ odd how they fire ideas, odd how they relate to one another and odd how they confirm my inkling about 2008.

First I saw, The Devil Wears Prada.  I did not read the book, read reviews of the book or reviews of the movie.  I just walked in expecting "The Princess Diaries goes Manhattan."   Lets start with Streep's hair - hey right on - white!  Love it.  And it was Meryl Streep, for god's sake.  Stanley Tucci ~ nothing bad there.  I thought I would love this movie.  But as it rolled on, I got more and more confused until it dawned on me - this entire movie is about hating women. 

The woman up and coming, the woman who has made it, the divorced mother, the twins, the two assistants ~ they all hate each other.  Power was hateful.  Choosing one's career was a crime.  Friends and lovers wanted her to stop working late, working hard, working with excellence.  And then the boyfriend says she was doing it all for the shoes.  Crap.

Movie two was just as odd.  It was the most female affirming movie I have ever seen.  I am actually moved to tears about it.  I sat in a theater and watched Al Gore honor, love, protect, admire Mother Earth.  In An Inconvenient Truth, he showed photos of her from space, from the North, from the South, her forest, her land, her seas.  It was so moving.  I feel as though it could have been Mother Earth's eulogy but Gore is not giving up his love for her and appeals to us to help revive her.  Oh that we loved her so much.

These two movies in one day plants me squarely at the crossroad where I wrestle with voting for non-feminist women.  I feel so strongly about women in leadership.  I know the world's advancement requires women in leadership.  However, can I vote for a non-feminist woman running against a feminist man?  Gore v. Rice.  We just may find out. 

 

Just a Nudge

Some days I get up and wonder why I am still on fire about the liberation of women.  Why would it be so important to me and clearly not of much interest to the people in the market, on the TV, driving on the freeway?  I think I am just a nudge and imagine people sighing, "oh that Zoe is at it again."  Then I just fold it in and go to the movies.

Of course I would choose to see Water, written and directed by Deepa Mehta.  This is her third in the series, Earth, Fire and Water.  This is the story about the lives of Hindu widows, who are believed to be half dead as the other half died with their husbands.  Their heads are shaved, they are shunned into living in stark communities (ashrams), sustained through begging.  Even if a girl is married at the age of seven, even if she never meets her husband, she must live the life of a beggar and the most she can hope for is to be bought for the nightly pleasuring of a man from the Brahmin class. 

The movie is set in 1938, ten years before the assassination of MK Gandhi when he was working to lift both women and untouchables (Harijan, as Gandhi called them, which means Children of God) out of entrenched and scripture endorsed oppression.  Mehta shows us Gandhiji stopping at a train station, speaking about his discovery ~ that it is not that God is truth but rather, Truth is God.  After 2 hours and 30 minutes of laughing, crying, weeping and appreciating that it is not 1938, a paragraph appears on the screen explaining that today, in India, 34 million widows live in poverty, suffering these same terrible injustices.

It took over five years to make Water, as when Mehta began filming in 2000, angry right-wing Hindu fundamentalist mobs burned her sets and threatened her life.  You may recall that this same group bombed theaters in Bombay and New Dehli when Fire, a film about lesbians, was being shown.  As you can guess, Mehta lives with death threats daily .

This movie is utterly fantastic.  The women will make you throw open your hearts.  The scenery is brilliant, all along the Ganges with roaming cows, wild dogs, bright saris and vendors cooking food in open pits.  (Shall we just not mention that the US poster has a man [handsome but not central] featured in the foreground?)  You will mourn for a little girl who wants to go home and be amazed at how easily the culture has made it all seem okay, not just okay but proper.  What do we accept as if it is okay? 

I love this movie, this writer, this director.  And, in case you think I forgot, I can't stop being a nudge.

Friday at the Movies

Thirty years ago I began going to the movies at The Lido Theater in Newport Beach.  In 1976 there was a sign at the staircase that directed people to the smoking section upstairs.  Truly, you could watch a movie and smoke cigarettes.  I think I saw Blazing Saddles a couple of times there puffing on my ciggies.

Today I stopped at the door and asked the ticket taker how long before the movie begins.  He said the movie was starting at 11:45.  No, I explained, what time does it actually START -- do I have time to go next door to Starbucks for a coffee.  He told me that, while I may have time to buy one, I would not have time to drink it as I could not bring it in the theater. 

What happened?  What happened to that kid?  I was going in the theater to see a movie about a young woman who gave her life to the resistance and I could not bring in a coffee.  It is noon on a Friday - 5 people in the theater - max and I would be stopped at the door if I tried to bring in a latte grande. 

Sophie Scholl The Final Days, was a deep, devastating movie.  Sophie Scholl was a sister, a nurse, a protestant, a thoughtful , mindful, wonderful woman who loved the sun and her family and humanity and really believed that everyone, if they only listened, would find strength in their conscience.  As she worked her way through days of interrogation she seemed to be saying that what separated her from her captors was the recognition and development of ones conscience.  Oh that she be right. 

For most of my life I would have said she was right.  I have bet my life several times that she is right.  I really believed that since most Americans believe that men and women are equal, our Constitution would easily adopt the ERA.  Since most Americans believe that a woman should be able to make her own private choices about her reproductive rights, Roe V Wade was the informed reflection of the American conscience. 

Today I saw South Dakota make their move.  12 states are poised to follow.  Sandra Day O'Connor has gone home.  This is no coincidence.  Obviously, I want women to refuse any legislation on their reproductive organs.  I want women to demand physical autonomy.  Of course I wanted to bring a f'ng cup of coffee in the movies.