Leia and Rey: The Ancient Grief of Women, Turned on its Head

Leai hanRey cry

 

 

 

 

One of the most important scenes in The Force Awakens does not appear anywhere on the Web – not as a film clip or a screen shot or even a publicity still.  I know why, I think.  Its power rests largely in its unexpected, heartbreaking,  surprise.  You know what it is: that desperate, grieving embrace between General Leia Organa and the pilot-scavenger Rey.

Since time began, women have mourned the loss of loved ones in battle.  Since time began we’ve stayed at home waiting, worrying: Penelope, Catelyn Stark, Mrs. MiniverSisera‘s mother, the women of WWI

Through the window she looked forth, and wailed,
The mother of Sisera, through the lattice:
“Why is his chariot so long in coming?
Why are the hoofbeats of his chariots so delayed?” — The song of Deborah,  Judges 5: 24-31 s

“[I] wondered if he was looking up at that same moon, far away, and thinking of me as I was thinking of him.”— Vera Brittain (Chronicle of Youth: The War Diary, 1913-1917)

But these two brave warriors, forced into battles that would steal their loved ones — their grief is different.  It is the grief of fellow soldiers, not docile ladies-in-waiting.  It is also a passing of the torch – literally and figuratively – between two powerful, wise women: one a grand figure from the last generation, the other an emerging power in the present one.

The loss of Han Solo, lover of one, father figure to the other, at the hands of Kylo Ren, his (and Leia’s) own son, and the near death of Ren himself in his battle with Rey, brought a grief shared by two warriors at opposite ends of the war against the Dark Side.  Despite the pain of loss – and near loss – Leia comforts – and seeks the comfort of — of a younger version of herself.  The battle between Rey and Kylo Ren in no way inhibits the joining of their pain and loss.  It’s similar to the reality male soldiers have described so often: the loss of a beloved buddy in battle.

For women though, that loss has usually been at a distance, learned of and mourned far after the death itself.  Now, just after the United States military has granted women soldiers access to the same combat duties and responsibilities as their brothers, and even as it portrays the generational legacy, the Star Wars tale depicts the same parity.  These preservers of The Force fully share it all as, now, do our own soldiers – and equally know loss as battlefield comrades.  Consider this, too:

I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its stupidity.  — Dwight David Eisenhower, 1946

 

Sons and Brothers — and Star Wars

Star_Wars sized

“I was raised to do one thing but I’ve got nothing to fight for.” —  Finn – a Storm Trooper*

My sons are 40 and 36 and they’re going to Star Wars opening night together.  It took some avid site refreshing and one wildly committed wife as deputy but they have tickets.  I love knowing that they like each other enough to share this. The first films hijacked our family – much to our delight.

There was lots of stuff, of course.  We had action figures and Death Star Space Stations, LandspeedersTie Fighters,  Millennium Falcons, Light Sabers, Lego versions  and about a billion little weapons all over the floor of their room.  All the time.  It was wonderful watching the two of them and their friends imagining all sorts of adventures as the toys carried them into battles between good and evil.

Once when he was around ten, I asked my older son, what he really wanted to do when he was older.  He replied, with growing agitation, “I want….  I want…. I want to fight The Empire!  

And there it is.  Deep inside the battles and light shows and Yoda-isms is the simple truth that informs most wonderful stories: a battle fought for honor, justice, family, love, or even peace.

Is it any wonder why that nearly 40 years later, the fever has reemerged, the joy and anticipation like new?

It is with gratitude that one watches a child find joy in a story or a song, from Little Bear to Harry Potter.  But Star Wars — well, that’s not just a wonderful tale, it’s the gift of a dream – something to fight for connected to the best parts of each of us, of hope, and courage and love.  I’m grateful that it exists and that my grown kids still love it and I’m really really grateful that the person each wants to revisit that world with is his very own brother.

*A trained warrior desperate to escape his past, Finn is plunged into adventure as his conscience drives him down a heroic, but dangerous, path.”  From the Official Star Wars Databank  

 

ISIS, Nazis, Trump and Dr. Caligari

 

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari - "Original German One-Sheet"
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari – “Original German One-Sheet”

These are scary times. A terrible sense of vulnerability has enveloped all of us. Is my son safe at his Jewish preschool? Should I still ride the bus? Continue to refuse to own a gun? Most importantly, trust my neighbors?

Worst of all, in the ramp-up to the Presidential election, can I continue to vote my hopes and ideals, not the base instincts of fear and distrust that Donald Trump evokes so skillfully?  Here’s what TV host and former Hill staffer Chris Matthews said about Trump the day that he challenged President Obama’s patriotism.

For those who applauded him today, cheered at his insinuation that the President hides himself as a defender of Islamist terrorism, I can only say this,You should be ashamed. None of us should applaud this 21st century McCarthyism, this cheap insinuation against a fellow American backed up by nothing but hate.”

Matthews described a “21st century McCarthyism;” perhaps there are even stronger parallels with the Germany’s Weimar Republic, which ruled during the desperate years between the end of WWI in 1918 and 1933, when Hitler was elected — and with the legendary film “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari,” released in Germany in 1920.

Considered the “first horror film,” it is the tale of an insane hypnotist who uses a somnambulist to commit murders. Its protagonist, Dr. Caligari, according to Siegfried Kracauer in his remarkable From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological History of the German Film  “stands for an unlimited authority that idolizes power as such, and, to satisfy its lust for domination, ruthlessly violates all human rights and values”*. The somnambulist,  (sleepwalker) Cesare is meant to be ordinary man, conditioned to kill.

There is much to connect our time with those Weimar years.  Some of it is a reach – but some of it is not.  The Harvard Film Archive describes the Weimar Republic as  “A period of great political and economic instability – of rampant inflation and unemployment.”  I remember learning about times when Germans needed a wheelbarrow of money to buy a loaf of bread, of hunger and sometimes even starvation, and about a deep resentment that the money that might have eased some this misery went instead to pay reparations to France and other victors.

The impact of this humiliation, along with deep resentment of Germany’s changed role in the world, is considered to have supported the response to Hitler’s message and his subsequent rise.  Kracauer late wrote:

Whether intentionally or not, [CALIGARI] exposes the soul wavering between tyranny and chaos, and facing a desperate situation: any escape from tyranny seems to throw it into a state of utter confusion. Quite logically, the film spreads an all-pervading atmosphere of horror. Like the Nazi world, that of CALIGARI overflows with sinister portents, acts of terror and outbursts of panic.

Familiar?

I spent some time Friday with a psychiatrist who listens to people all day.  I was ranting about the dangers of feeding fear and anger, encouraging blanket discrimination and even violence.  “We need someone to address our better angels, not our untrammeled fears.”  said I.

His response: Never, ever had things been like they are in this country at this moment, when no none knows what to do.  Every one of his patients, he added, described feeling some sort of real anxiety, if not abject fear.

I responded pretty much as Chris Matthews had.  In his limited sample, my friend replied, Trump was the only candidate who felt to patients like a “strong American.”  It was that impression that led them to feel such a strong affinity for him.

So here we sit.  Certainly not Weimar but unsettled and seeking a “stronger” leader and allowing a man (whose qualifications. — beyond his brilliant ability to read a crowd) are questionable, to suggest that we ban Muslims from our shores.

We need to decide whether we are willing to be sleepwalkers.  If we’re not, we’ve got to wake up everybody else.

 

 

Come See the Devil Baby

                               Mark Knopfler at the Edison Awards, 2003

The freaks’ll stay together, They’re a tight old crew
You look at them, And they look at you….

Devil Baby, by Mark Knopfler

This is a song about a freak show.  And why not?

Today I turned on the TV and found not one, but two “active shooter” situations going on in California.  UPDATE: One hour after I wrote this, a news conference in San Bernardino, scene of the first of these shooting events, reported 14 people dead and 14 wounded,  by “as many as three gunmen.”  

Before that was Colorado and the viciousness and cruelty of targeting Planned Parenthood — and women.  Before that was Paris.   And the Russian plane.  And always — Isis/Isil/DAESH/BokoHaram.   And of course, Donald Trump.  SO.

This is a song about a freak show. And that’s why.

ALSO we all know I love Mark Knopfler so there’s that.

Sixty Years Ago: The Ballad of Momma Rosa Parks

 Rosa Parks

I’ve tried everywhere to find audio or video of this wonderful song.  I know it exists because I used to play it with my kids*.  Even without the music though, it’s great.  So on this anniversary, with honor, admiration — and awe:

The Ballad of Momma Rosa Parks
(Nick Venet and Buddy Mize, 1963)

In nineteen hundred and fifty-five,
In a southern American town,
A tired colored lady got on a city bus
And immediately sat down,
With a closed mind and an opened mouth
The big bus driver got rough
And told his only passenger
To move to the back of the bus.

cho: When Momma Parks sat down,
     The whole world stood up,
     What's good for one is good for all,
     It's good for all of us.

The lady's name was Momma Rosa Parks,
A hard workin' woman indeed,
She was goin' home, 'twas her goin' time,
She had little hungry mouths to feed,
She wasn't botherin' nobody
And doin' nothin' wrong,
By the Lord's rules of love
When Momma Parks sat down
The whole world stood up.

printed in "Songs of Peace, Freedom and Protest" by Tom Glazer 
(1970, David McKay Company)

*If you know where I can find it please let me know!

Bruce, Stipe, Mellencamp, Matthews & More (and Farewell NABLOPOMO)

Consider this post a public service announcement.

We’re ending this month with so much sadness and bad news and facing an election year sure to bring much more. SO instead of the long NABLOPOMO meditation I’d planned I offer you the last song from the best concert I have ever been to IN MY LIFE, not just because this amazing lineup* (it was almost too much to absorb,) but because it existed to serve the 2004 Democratic ticket as John Kerry challenged George Bush.

Yeah I know he lost, but the song – this song – written by Patti Smith, still helps to remind us today of the task that lies before us.  “The People Have the Power.”  We, the people, need to do all we can to protect our rights and fight to revive those stolen from us:  the Voting Rights Act, the terrible assaults on women’s healthcare providers, especially Planned Parenthood, racial injustice and pain beyond describing, xenophobia and hate speech from those who would lead us.  We can’t afford to lose.

So, enjoy the music and take it to heart, then remember for the next year that those people who have the power?

They’re us.

 

*Babyface, Bonnie Raitt, Bruce Springsteen, Dave Matthews Band, Dixie Chicks, Eddie Vedder, Jackson Browne, James Taylor, John Fogerty, John Mellencamp, Jurassic 5, Keb’ Mo’, Pearl Jam, R.E.M.

A Terrorist is a Terrorist, NOT a “Shooter,” NOT a “Gunman.” A Terrorist.

Cristina Page's photo.

So is he a crazy “shooter” or a terrorist?   Does it matter what we call him?  This is the question on all the Sunday talk shows – but yesterday . . .

Listen to Cristina Page ( Yesterday at 12:58pm)

Interesting how the media is characterizing this premeditated act of terror against Planned Parenthood as committed by a “calm and crazy” person whereas the attacks in Paris, including Charlie Hebdo (another workplace targeted for political reasons), were carried out by terrorists who were only characterized as “calm”. The media’s attempt to make the string of fatal attacks against clinics isolated attacks by insane individuals, whereas the string of fatal vigilante attacks by Muslim extremists are considered political acts of terror, is because the media fears being seen as taking sides in the abortion debate.

Then read this:

And this, from CNN – a real surprise:

Huckabee: Planned Parenthood shooting is ‘domestic terrorism‘  CNN

Here’s the first post I read about this topic – also from Christina Page.  Thank you Christina for reminding us all of the importance of words!

The media needs to change this language immediately. They are referring to him as a shooter. He is a terrorist. This language needs to be corrected from the inception (I think behind the scenes so as to not make that the issue). If they start naturally referring to him that way, that’s what we want and that’s what it will be. All of the messengers should just not sway from this language. Terror was understood right from the start in Paris, this is the very same. One officer killed, four officers shot and 4 civilians.

It’s gratifying to hear so many establishment pundits, right and left, advocating the conscious use of the word “terrorist”  but if it weren’t for the advocacy from women like Christina and others, who knows how much longer it would have taken to get them to do it?

NABLOPOMO Winds Down; Writing Struggles and Ta-Nehesi Coates

November posts sized
The sun has set upon Shabbat; now we need a Saturday post.  Today is the 28th; Monday is the last day of November and also of NABLPOMO.  I’ve managed every day except one Shabbat that I forgot to set up in advance, and have been glad, each day, of the commitment.

It’s so easy to let things go; just look at my very embarrassing WordPress chart: gaping holes all over the place. June is a little better than the rest because we were traveling and my blog is always lively when we’re on the road, but basically it’s a portrait of an undisciplined writer.

Then November rolled around, and with it the opportunity to accept an external structure.  I made a promise; it wasn’t a case of writing when I felt like it.  I would write every single day.

I love the process, once the idea comes.  Of course with most posts I am certain what I’m posting sucks, no matter how often I edit it.  Usually, when I read it later, it’s better than I’d thought.  Always there’s room to improve, sometimes there’s also real potential.  My favorite posts for the month:

Abortion and Olivia: Prison Has Many Forms and So Does Freedom

The War for the Souls of Orthodox Jewish Women (and Men) and Why It Matters

“Truth” and “Spotlight” and the News

Good Girls Revolt — When Men Were “Mad” and Women Were Researchers

Author Ta-Nahesi Coates, whose amazing Between the World and Me has informed (and transformed) much of my perspective on our country today, described his own labors toward writing, and writing “breakthroughs,” here.  It has been very helpful to me this month and, I suspect, will continue to be.

The only way to write something is to face down that blank page.  Whatever comes out can be altered and edited and re-thought or even rejected.  But if it isn’t there, it isn’t there.  Every day there’s a decision: shall I make myself sit down here or not?  It’s awesome and scary and frustrating which is why the opportunity to pledge a steady month of writing is so valuable.  Now I have to figure out how to keep going.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

thank you cloud2Seriously.  Whatcha got?  Health?  Family?  Career?  Friends?  Purpose?  Beauty outside your window?  Music whenever you want it?  Food whenever you need it?  You know what’s there.

Let’s all use our inside thank you voices and remember.  There’s wonder amid the terror and love and laughter, and life.

Best wishes, in the most literal of terms, to you all.

Syria, ISIS and Women: Painful Stories

ISIS Women NYTIt’s all horrible, of course; morning news junkies that we are, we dread waking up each day – always sure there will be yet another terrible story to contend with.  Anger, fear and grief are only a few of the emotions riding roughshod through all of us, yet Sunday, one story about three young women once again crystalized the hideousness we face.

Labor unions often call their members “brothers and sisters;” and women do it a lot.  I can’t count the number of times the words “my sister” or “our sisters” appear in women’s rights pieces and posts and books like Robin Morgan’s classic “Sisterhood is Powerful “—  and it is.

Sunday the 22nd of November, a trio of “sisters” appeared on the front page of the New York Times — three friends who fled Raqqa, their home town in Syria and now ISIS Central, and found shelter in Turkey; girls who grew up in houses, not tents, who went out in their summer dresses, and west swimming with the guys — and went to college — girls who are now prisoners of their gender.

Their stories emerge almost bloodlessly: tales of forced marriages, of severed heads, of complete loss of freedom and of the deeply troubling work they did as members of the religious police, taken on to help insulate their families from the terror of ISIS’ fierce punishments, all described in the simplest of terms.

This very unexceptional tone insures that their stories will haunt me for a long time – this tale of three of our sisters, suffering like so many of theirs.