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Every Tuesday my friends and I attend the open mic night at the Busboys and Poets 14th and V location. As we file into the dimly lit room, with walls covered in murals honoring great artists of color through history, we have the privilege of hearing from a vast array of artists that share their respective talents and works. But the nights I treasure most are when Charity Blackwell hosts the event. Charity Joyce Blackwell is a D.C. local, and Trinity University graduate, who has made a name for herself in the world of spoken word poetry: a genre of poetry intended for performance. Because of her finesse, confidence, and overall captivating presence, Charity has also expanded her career to encompass hosting events such as the Poetry Slam's Out Loud National Competition, and the weekly open mic nights at Busboys and Poets that my friends and I frequent. Charity’s work has such notability, that she has performed her poems for BCC News, The Kennedy Center, The Lincoln Theater, and many more. Most recently, she filmed a TED Talk that will be available for public viewing at a later date. You can find out more about her and her work on her website charityjoyceblackwell.com, or through her instagram, @charityjoyceblackwell. When Charity takes the stage there is no mistaking her talent. The poems that I have witnessed her perform are based off of the relationships she had with her parents who both passed away over the last four years. Despite the cataclysmic loss of her family, Charity has captured the essence of her parents, and the lessons they have taught her, through her poems. She honors her father through a poem that is an extended metaphor about him cheering her on at the sidelines of a basketball game, and she honors her mother through a poem about the act of giving. In the poem honoring her mother, she recalls that her mother valued giving to others. She recounts a time when her father criticized her mother for giving money to homeless people because “you don’t owe them anything.” To which her mother replied “who am I to judge?” Charity recalls that her mother told her to give because “baby this world will eat you alive,” and that is how she got her name: Charity. From this revolutionary up and coming artist, we can all learn to give a little more of ourselves to help our communities, as she does. Whether that be through acts of kindness, or through poetry that touches a room full of people every Tuesday night.

A grey stained plywood dropbox sits atop yellow-lined rusted metal bleachers in the middle of a white wall room. Pick up the pen, attached by cuffed chain links to the side of the box, just next to the entry slot where stories slip into a pile of collective memories. Write a significant moment that occurred around a basketball hoop. Located right behind Capital One Arena, the National Building Museum quietly calls for appreciation in its smooth red brick stature. Previously known as the headquarters for the United States Pension Bureau, the building can be identified as home to many political affairs, cultural events, and office meetings over the past thirty-two years. Styled after two Roman palaces, the interior atrium design is nothing short of breathtaking with natural skylights illuminating the marble columns and gold detailing. Though the building has served many purposes, it is widely known for housing a variety of art exhibits, alternating every few months to display a wide range of artistry. While the building itself could be an exploration of imagination and architecture, one simple second-floor exhibit room caught my attention more than any of the intricate archways and precisely placed fountains: HOOP. “A photograph of someone making a great shot or a great move takes place in a fraction of a second, but an image of that same court taken without people is about a period of time in the layered history of a place. It is about the people who played on that court, who built that community, many of whom have come and gone.” -Bill Bamberger* Just one fairly small room. White walls. Two, maybe three, photographs per wall. I had no idea what kind of power and reminiscence one small room could hold. As a frequent-flyer to east coast city art museums, I tend to spend my miles quickly and explore at a fast-walk pace, to say the least. This particular room held me grounded, rooted in my own memories and intrigued by the various perspectives captured through color, light, location, and distance. Some familiar, others foreign, the photographs showcase basketball hoops and courts across the world with no human activity to be found. Barren deserts, tropical islands, no nets, graffitied backboards, every hoop has a different story. The nature of the exhibit of which grasped my attention and curiosity far beyond expectations was the ability of the photographers to create durable human connection and feelings of humanistic interactions with every place, without portraying any actual people or subjects within the frames beyond the hoop. The brisk breeze and rough grass of my grandparent's backyard in the transitioning months between fall and winter felt as immediate as the portrait in front of me, though the last time I experienced or even saw that worn down, hanging net basketball hoop was before I turned thirteen. Somehow, no matter where it exists, the ability of a single symbol to grant universal experiences and represent various identities, histories, and personal implications astounds me and comforts me all at once. If you’re looking for a piece of home in downtown, District of Columbia, a stroll through the halls of the National Building Museum could bring a refreshing perspective from a single room. *Bill Bamberger is a featured photographer and author in Fortune, The New York Times, The Washington Post, and holds exhibits all over the United States featuring topics of modern social and cultural issues.

Rainbow Rowell is back with a newly released sequel to her 2015 fiction novel: Carry On. This new book: Wayward Son is thought to be book two of an intended three-part series. The titles are reminiscent of Kansas’ hit song, Carry On Wayward Son, which begs the question of the title of Rowell’s next book. Although the third book begs more questions than it answers, her fans will appreciate any new content she writes, even with a four year waiting time in between the publications. The first book in the series reads as a knock off Harry Potter. The story is also set in England and features the story of three teenagers with magic abilities who need to defeat a villain reminiscent of Voldemort: the Humdrum. However, by the end of this book, I had learned to appreciate Rowell’s new take on a modern fiction novel about magic. Carry On reminded me of the fiction books I read as a child while including content meant for more mature audiences. The story touches on many adult themes and the characters curse often. The main romance in the story is a gay couple, which contributes to the highly contemporary based storyline. This style of writing allows for an easy, even childlike read, despite not being appropriate for younger audiences. It was perfect for me when I first began reading her series at age fourteen. However, I worried that I would no longer be interested in Rowell’s story four years later, come the release of Wayward Son. Luckily, as soon as I picked up the second book, I found I was incorrect. Wayward Son takes place after the final battle in Carry On (in, I believe: Harry Potter book eight) and depicts the three main characters on vacation to America. I was happy to find that I easily became immersed in the book and was reminded of my love of the characters. Just as Rowell’s first book made me nostalgic for childhood fiction, this novel did the same, although I was now brought back to my fourteen-year-old self reading Carry On. Although I have yet to finish reading the second part of the series, it has been the first book I’ve read so feverishly in a long time. I was not expecting to love this book as much as I do, but Rainbow Rowell seems to know her audience well. She perfectly encapsulated my favorite parts of the first novel and structured the plot to ensure her readers would “carry on” reading. It is evident that she listened to her fans, writing this book to cater to their wishes. I would recommend this series for anyone who misses the simplicity of their childhood fiction novels or anyone who wants an engaging, low-effort pleasure read.

The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn is a New York Times Bestseller, Stephen King-approved thriller that is soon to be a major motion picture. So… why didn't I enjoy it that much? I have a problem: every time I go to Barnes & Noble I buy a book. It does matter how close I am to a used-book store, how much cheaper I know it is online or even as a paperback, or how many books I own that I have not read yet. I will always buy books. The Woman in the Window is written from the perspective of Anna Fox, a woman with agoraphobia who spends her days spying on her neighbors. The drama stems from the Russells move in across the street and what Anna discovers during her voyeurism. What originally attracted me to this novel was the promise of an unreliable narrator. I love reading books that bend your sense of reality. Also, if the Stephen King said it was worth a read, then who was I to deny myself the opportunity. Yet, when I finally finished reading the novel, I was left unsatisfied like I had been tricked somehow. With each twist and turn my reactions stayed stagnant. There are two reasons I believe this book left me unsatisfied. One: The Suspense In the times there was supposedly suspense, I felt no great sense of uneasiness. While I was paying careful attention to detail just in case, I felt as if nothing was really happening or encouraging me to continue reading. In fact, when there was a sense of uneasiness from occasions of dramatic irony- when we the readers can infer something the characters can not- I just felt sad, as if I was experiencing Anna’s own emotions and frustrations. I can say that I felt sympathy and sadness throughout the whole time I was reading the novel. Additionally, there were several “twists” in this novel. The change from “suspense” to a dramatic twist was, while still containing interesting content, not very shocking and did not really make me question the novel and what Anna had portrayed. To me, these smaller twists made sense. It was as if Finn was expecting me to question reality when it seemed very straightforward. When the bigger twist came, I was expecting it because I knew something had to happen and had somewhat of an idea of what that something was. The actual content of the bigger twist did catch me off guard but not in a good way. Because Anna’s perspective painted my reality, along with the fact that she was the only character I truly cared about, the reveal came out of nowhere because I do not feel as if we were really asked to question that specific point. The ending, because of the twists, felt very rushed like Finn was trying to wrap everything up. It was disorienting in a way it was not intended to be… which could be said about most of the reveals in the novel. Two: The Author I would like the preface this section by saying that I have nothing against A.J. Finn. Despite my qualms with the novel, the writing was very good and I cannot deny that I was invested in it. The Woman in the Window is a very well-written first novel. However, I do believe this bias caused some of my confusion and issues with the book. After I had finished reading, I was bewildered. It was when I turned to the back of the book and saw a picture of the author that things began to make sense. A.J. Finn is a man. More specifically, Finn is a man writing from the perspective of a woman. This explains certain parts that left me confused, parts that seemed off, and ideas that only felt half-developed. Finn was unable to truly encapsulate the female experience, especially the parts that would have made this novel more thrilling (and frightening to a female audience). The perpetual cautiousness women have to practice would have definitely made Anna’s story uniquely terrifying, especially when amplified by her paranoia. It is also important to note that my experience as a woman guided my interpretation of this text. In the end, even though this novel left me frustrated and dissatisfied, if this book sounds interesting to you, please do not hesitate to give it a read.

Dermot Kennedy’s latest release is so polished and breathtaking, it’s easy to forget Without Fear is the Irish singer-songwriter’s first album. Although Dermot has emerged with a more heavily-produced sound in contrast to his two earlier EPs and numerous singles, his poetic lyricism remains a centerpiece of each song and is surprisingly well-complimented by a less folksy tone than fans are used to. The now 27-year-old’s road to success goes back to an era of busking on the streets of Dublin as a teen and has led him to the present where his ongoing fall tour has seen the sellout of impressive venues like Kings Theatre in New York City. While Dermot repeatedly reminds us that artists like Bon Iver, Foy Vance, and Damien Rice have been his long-time inspiration, a love for hip-hop—such as the work of J. Cole, Joey Bada$$, and Drake—is more evident in Without Fear. This makes it difficult for fans to define his genre, but whatever they call it, Dermot makes it work. The album begins with a mesmerizing rework of an old favorite, “An Evening I Will Not Forget,” which was the artist’s first single to debut on Spotify back in 2015. The new version, however, serves as a contrast to its acoustic counterpart. It begins more confidently, gradually opening up to a beat that reveals hip-hop and electronic undertones. This quality continues into “All My Friends,” another rework which originally debuted on Dermot’s first EP, and runs throughout the majority of Without Fear. All of Dermot’s fans will recognize “Power Over Me,” his most popularly-accessible radio hit, but will be excited to memorize every word of the newest songs on the album. “What Have I Done” and “Rome” are some of the deeper and more heartfelt of these, the latter boasting gripping lyrics like “Dance carefree, I hope it’s easier knowing me / Now, your soul is yours, but I’ll help it move if I can.” While “Redemption” and “Outgrown”—both brand new—are a bit more upbeat, it would be unfair not to acknowledge their poetic lyrics, as well. “You’ve got a pretty way of keeping the sound out” is quite a memorable example. For long-time fans who pay attention to Dermot’s unofficial releases via YouTube, “The Corner,” “Dancing Under Red Skies,” and “Without Fear” are nothing new, but the production and studio-recorded clarity give all of them an exciting new sound. These fans might also recognize the melody from “Malay”—a song Dermot began singing on tour in 2018—in the first verse of “Outgrown.” Sadly, however, this leaves uncertainty as to whether “Malay” will ever see a life beyond unreleased versions on YouTube. There is something to be said for the fact that Without Fear lacks any kind of calm, acoustic ballad largely characterized by the artist’s past discography, especially because until now, the only versions of the title track—“Without Fear”—featured just Dermot and his acoustic guitar. But whether listeners prefer Dermot’s voice classic and stripped-down or with a bit more production, there is no denying that this boy has given us a beautiful view. We look forward to hearing more.

In The Man They Wanted Me to Be, Jared Yates Sexton tells the story of how toxic masculinity played a major role in his life. From the time he was a young boy, all the men in his life, especially his father, pushed the unrealistic pressures of toxic masculinity onto him. Not naturally fitting into the acceptable masculine stereotypes, he felt lost for most of his life and even now fights to not give in to these unrealistic expectations. This is something most men can relate to. Whether it’s from their fathers, brothers, peers, or simply society, this pressure is still present today and not going away fast enough. The mentality produced from this pressure is detrimental to society. The book mentions how many men feel entitled due to this mentality, and because they aren’t taught how to properly express their emotions, they act out in anger and aggression when they feel that they haven’t been given what they deserve. The first step to addressing this issue and slowly fading it out of young boy’s lives is to spread awareness. In The Man They Wanted Me to Be, toxic masculinity is talked about in a relatable and open way. It allows the reader to enter into the discussion surrounding toxic masculinity and encourages progression. Books like Jared Yates Sexton’s need to be read, especially by the men of today’s younger generations. If we are educating ourselves on this issue, we can begin to solve it. Reading Sexton’s book can be your first step to gaining a better awareness of toxic masculinity, learning about the men in your life, and slowly, but surely, erasing the unreasonable societal pressure to "be a man."

The idea of the “spoiler” and all that it entails is pretty new. Famously, Shakespeare’s plays were based off of stories from history that audiences would have been familiar with, and Greek tragedies often laid out the entire plot in the opening dialogue. The term “spoiler” still didn’t connote what it does today until well into the 20th century. Quite famously, The New York Times published an article in 1976 in which George Lucas explained what exactly was going to happen in Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope a full year before it was released. So when—and why—did we start caring about spoilers? Societally, we’ve fraternized with spoilers for decades, the teaser trailer being a notable harbinger. Advertising campaigns for films have always been defined by the way that they can arouse interest without giving too much information away, and the teaser trailer became a perfect vehicle for doing this. In some cases, creative ad campaigns have directly contributed to the success of a film. Famously, The Blair Witch Project was advertised as actual found footage, with advertisers even drawing up fake missing posters for the film’s cast to further convince moviegoers that the events were completely real—and it worked. The 1999 film grossed over $200 million at the box office, a monumental success given its modest $60,000 budget. It’s important to note that spoilers used to be not that big of a deal. In the olden days (you know, the decades in which your parents grew up), going to the movies was an occasional outing, and movies didn’t enjoy the same mega releases that they do today. Two trends shifted our way of thinking. The first was the influx of movies into movie theaters—more and more theaters started opening, and thus, more movies were available to the masses. Joe Shmo in Nowhere, Iowa could likely see the The Empire Strikes Back the same night that it was amassing huge opening weekend lines in New York City. The second, was, of course, the advent of the Internet, which turned sharing movie secrets into a giant free-for-all. In the late 90s and early 2000s, the term “spoiler” entered the mainstream after having previously existed primarily in fandom circles. Studios didn’t love this new avenue for spoilers mostly because it had the potential to destroy box office momentum. But they recognized that there was no real way to police it. Predictably, studios found a way to use spoiler paranoia to their advantage. The preservation of surprises to ensure spoiler-free viewing experiences gave filmmakers and showrunners a drum to beat while the implication of spoilers gave marketers a way to convince moviegoers to get to the theater as soon as possible. However, in the age of streaming, it’s harder and harder to avoid spoilers, even if they have an implicitly understood expiration date. Enter spoiler paranoia. Fans have become so obsessed with preserving their virgin viewing experiences and avoiding spoilers that they are finding inventive ways to mitigate the threat of spoilers, most commonly by muting specific words on Twitter or even muting accounts entirely. The consensus on spoilers is divided. On the one hand, they are regarded as inevitable—in an interview for Dark Tower, Stephen King said, “There are no spoilers! You might as well say I’m never going to watch Wizard of Oz again because I know how it comes out.” Conversely, famed film critic Roger Ebert once wrote that though it is our right as filmgoers to disagree with the choices made in a film, “It is not our right, however, to destroy for others the experience of being as surprised by those choices as we were.” But it’s a fact that spoiler paranoia and the culture that bred it are engaging in the unfortunate practice of valuing narrative over style — which is fair, because the plot drives the film. On the other hand, it seems that we care less and less about the way the plot is presented. So it is basically a miracle to step into a movie theater these days knowing nothing about the movie you’re about to see, and, very fortunately, these were the exact conditions the night I saw Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite. Chances are, by now you’re at least moderately familiar with the buzz surrounding Parasite, either from the Internet or some dudebro movie buff in your film class. I don’t usually go into movies totally blind — it’s virtually impossible these days and, on top of that, it’s helpful to have a little context before you decide what to see. Imagine galavanting into a screening of The Silence of the Lambs with no prior knowledge, thinking it was going to be about farm animals.Or randomly selecting Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for a night in, hoping it’ll be an English literature-themed slasher movie. It’s easier to avoid spoilers when it comes to international films because, unfortunately, Hollywood and America at large are too often ignorant of the way cinema is blossoming, evolving, and being experimented with abroad. Furthermore, it often takes a while for films to cross international borders. Parasite was released in South Korea in May and didn’t hit U.S. theaters until mid-October. At this point, you might’ve heard that it won the "Palme d’Or," the highest award given at Cannes, putting it in a league with seminal films such as Taxi Driver, Paris, Texas, and Pulp Fiction. You also might’ve heard people that have seen it say that it “wasn’t at all what they expected” or that it is “unlike anything they’ve ever seen before.” I’m here to tell you that while the hype should absolutely be believed, it should also be avoided at all costs. Don’t get me wrong—this isn’t as dire as the big death in Endgame or as high stakes as the twist at the end of The Sixth Sense. Parasite, in fact, doesn’t rely on a big reveal or a shocking plot twist. The joy of going in cold was that I got to watch this story unfold the way it was intended, and the effect was much like enjoying a delicious five course dinner that just keeps getting better and better. Each new plot development was exciting, each meticulously-composed shot a new feast for the eyes. This movie-going experience reminded me of what it was like to go to the movies as a kid, when my mom would take me and my sister to see the latest Disney releases when they came out. At that point, there was no way I could be privy to spoilers—I wasn’t on the Internet yet, and I certainly wasn’t reading any movie reviews. With my knowledge of current cinema that limited, going to the movies felt magical: my mom would buy a matinee popcorn combo special and my sister and I would share a package of Skittles or gummy worms. I was enchanted by animation the way only a kid could be, and by the way time seemed to have either sped up or stopped while we were in the theater—I was always surprised to step outside to find that dusk had fallen or that it had been light outside the entire time we’d been shut away in the dark. This is how I experienced so many beloved movies from my youth: Monsters Inc., Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, and The Incredibles. Seeing Parasite with virtually no prior knowledge reinstated that childhood magic of going to the movies, a feeling I had lost in the interim years of copious Marvel and A24 releases that I saw mostly out of an obligation to stay up to date with pop culture. I’m tempted to give more away but instead I’ll deliver on what the title of this post promises and just shut up.

This past month I was able to attend a poetry open mic event at DC’s Busboys and Poets. The event featured spoken word poetry from several local poets including any audience members who wished to participate. The reading was hosted by Alexa Patrick- an AU alumnus herself- who shared some of her own works and introduced Ryan Sheppard, also an AU alumnus, as the featured poet. This was the first open mic night that I have ever attended and I was incredibly grateful for the inclusive and welcoming environment that Alexa generated. I shared some of my own poetry and left feeling both validated and well-received. I’ve never spoken at an event before and although the experience was nervewracking, I felt well supported by both the crowd and Alexa. Nearly every audience member shared their writing and Alexa had a generous compliment after each of the poems. The environment of the event certainly contributed to the experience. The ticket was only five dollars and I found this to be more than worth the unbelievable poems. The best part about the open mic night, in my opinion, was the talent within the audience members. Their poetry opened my eyes to new perspectives and their talent amazed me. It reminded me that each individual is capable of creating art, no matter how “mundane” or “normal” they seem. I would highly recommend Busboys and Poets- specifically events hosted by Alexa- for anyone looking for an open mic night. Additionally, Ryan and Alexa both advocated for American’s slam poetry group; Speak Fresh. Both of the alumni were involved in the group, Ryan as a student and Alexa as a coach, and both talked very highly of the team and encouraged all AU students interested in poetry to join. The club hosts showcases, open mic nights, workshops and is the place to be for any budding, or experienced, poets. Ryan and Alexa both credited Speak Fresh for encouraging their poetry and building their poetic skills. This event truly showcased how inclusive the American community is and how successful our alumni are. It reminded me of why I originally wanted to attend American; for the opportunities that Ryan and Alexa both took advantage of. I certainly was not expecting to get this reassertion when attending the event, but it came as a pleasant surprise. I plan on attending more events at Busboys and Poets as well as attending some of Speak Fresh’s events on campus.

You know that feeling when you make friends with someone, and at first, it’s lighthearted— you like spending time with them because you laugh a lot together, but then you reach a point where you realize that person is going to be really important to you— that something about them really resonates with you? Well, that’s how it feels to watch Fleabag. At first, I was drawn in by the witty, morally ambivalent, vulgar leading lady and her hilariously dry analysis of hook-up culture, and her almost constant breaking of the fourth wall— but slowly I became enthralled in Fleabag’s exploration of love, guilt, intense female rage, and being a woman in our world— or a person at all. But, before I continue! #SpoilerAlert! Fleabag is a dark comedy, but not just for the sake of being pessimistic and funny. The genre is reflective of Fleabag herself— she hides how she truly feels from the audience and from the other characters in the show with raunchy candidness about her sex life. Fleabag entertains us with an amusingly frank analysis of sex, gross men, her distant father, and evil godmother. She makes us laugh most during the darkest parts of her story. But her humor ultimately exists to deter others from discovering the darkness in her: the guilt she feels for the death of her best friend, how scared she is for her sister and her father, and the fear and dread she feels in a world that is indifferent to her. The first season of Fleabag is so clever to me because of the existentially nihilistic philosophy of the show, and the way it manifests in our heroine as emotionless hedonism. I mean, what better way to detach oneself from a growing sense of dread than bountiful amounts of casual sex with strangers? Fleabag is fixated on sex because it’s the only thing that makes her feel valuable in a world where it increasingly seems that she is not. In the second episode of the show, she pretentiously confesses with a condescending smirk that she fears “losing the currency of youth.” But it’s true— she finds herself digestible only to the degree that she is deemed “fuckable.” The first season ends with a truly honest moment with our heroine, just after we learn a large secret that I will not name in case anybody who hasn’t watched the show has carelessly disregarded my spoiler alert. All you need to know is: this secret is something she feels very guilty about. And she has been hiding it from us (the audience, who she speaks to directly, very often) for the whole show. This final scene of season one is the first time in the show that Fleabag has an entire conversation without making any remarks into the camera. She says: "I know that my body as it is now really is the only thing I have left, and when that gets old and unfuckable, I may as well just kill it... And somehow there isn’t anything worse than someone who doesn’t want to fuck me... Either everyone feels like this a little bit, and they’re just not talking about it, or I am completely fucking alone. Which isn’t fucking funny." -Fleabag (Phoebe Waller-Bridge), Fleabag, Season 1: Episode 6 I love this moment because any viewer who is looking for something to laugh is told that it is definitely not funny. This is the first moment in the show that has no twinge of humor, no eye rolls or snide remarks into the camera— just an honest declaration. It’s telling that Fleabag ignores the camera in this moment because she is disregarding this coping mechanism. And it’s important that this happens when she is talking about her guilt, and how she feels worthless in every way but her capacity to seduce people (something, I think, many women can relate to.) This brings me to the Priest-Fleabag relationship in the second season. I have so many thoughts about the Priest-Fleabag relationship, but what interests me most is how the Priest challenges this fear of worthlessness Fleabag has, and the examination of guilt it brings. The show poses the question: what do we do with our guilt? Where do we put it? The Priest knows exactly what to do with his (Catholics are kind of pros at this): confess, and ask God for forgiveness. For him, as long as he’s good with god— he’s in the clear. But it’s not so clear for Fleabag. I mean, when she does try out confession, it doesn’t turn out so well. So, how is she to make sense of the guilt she feels in a meaningless, godless world? Is there anything to do but... let it pass? I think that Fleabag experiences love in a similar way. At one point, in a flashback to a conversation about the death of her mother, Fleabag says, “I don’t know what to do with it... with all the love I have for her. I don’t know where to put it now.” For Fleabag, the love she feels weighs on her— so Boo, (her now-dead best friend) offers to take it. She says, “it sounds lovely. I’ll have it.” For Fleabag, love and guilt are all mixed up and intertwined with each other. It’s unclear which is driving her to the Priest— her love for him, or her search for forgiveness? I think part of the reason Fleabag is interested in the Priest is because he feels something like forgiveness to her. He’s supposed to be this figure of god, and he can see through her—literally, he’s the only person who senses when she breaks the fourth wall— and he still wants to be around her. This is important for Fleabag. She’s very concerned with his piety, and I think this is not just because it’s what is keeping him from hooking up with her— but also because she feels some amount of validation from being befriended by a Priest. It’s clear she’s attracted to him, but the show makes us wonder: what else will Fleabag get out of seducing this Priest? Of course, they do end up hooking up, because it’s the only way Fleabag knows how to feel valued. But the Priest challenges this. Fleabag’s coping mechanism for the first half of the show is shallow hook-ups that prove to her that she’s useless, but being loved by the Priest interrupts this coping mechanism— it threatens her belief that she is worthless. The second (and final) season ends with Fleabag confessing her love for the Priest, in a way that mirrors her confession of guilt at the end of the first season. I think we learn with Fleabag that the only thing we can do with our love, and our guilt, is share them with others. Whether the love is reciprocated or not, we can’t keep it inside. The show jumbles the two together in a way that makes them feel almost indistinguishable like her actions are equally out of love and guilt. But we learn from her first confession at the end of the first season, and from her second confession at the end of the second season, that the only way to make it through the pain of love and guilt is to muddle through them together, but of course, with time— *Cue my tears* There is a lot more to this show than this, including a really complex relationship between Fleabag and the audience, metaphorical (and real) foxes chasing after the Priest, witty feminist commentary, etc.— so if you haven’t watched it yet, you should!

Netflix is known for their original movies of which some have done very well (To All The Boys I Loved Before) but Tall Girl is a movie that not only looks ridiculous, but absolutely is. The movie follows Jodi: a blond, conventionally attractive, straight, white, wealthy woman and her very difficult life. Her biggest issue is that she is…tall. That’s right, the movie shows her “incredibly difficult life” as a girl that is 16 and 6 '2. Within the first ten minutes, the movie delivers the most egregious line I have ever heard. Jodi narrates: “You think your life is hard, I'm a junior in high school wearing size 13 Nikes, Mens." As a disabled, Muslim, immigrant, woman of color it was so funny to hear that line. Not to mention, after a quick google search, I learned men’s Nike shoes cost upwards of 100 dollars. Maybe I’m wildin’, but I’m failing to see an issue here. Before I go any further, I want to acknowledge that I’m sure tall girls are often bullied. This movie could’ve done a great job exploring the challenges that tall girls face, but making all other problems obsolete in the face of a privileged insecurity is not the right approach. Right after Jodi makes that gut punching line, we are introduced to her black friend. If not already lost, this is where the movie loses me 100%. I really am failing to understand if this movie is a joke or if it’s actually serious. Right after, we meet Jodi’s insanely beautiful pageant queen sister (whose downfall is her allergies?) and Jodi’s two clueless parents. I promise I am not being necessarily mean when I say that because when Jodi confronts her mother about what adversity her mother could possibly face, she replies, “Well, I was not very popular with the other girls in school because I was too beautiful.” I can’t even think about what I would say to that. We, soon after, are introduced to one of Jodi’s two main love interests in the film: Jack, who’s only characteristics are that he’s short, he carries his books in a milk crate, and he relentlessly hits on Jodi. Literally ten seconds later, Stig, a tall and handsome exchange student, comes along and Jodi immediately falls for him. To get his attention, she enlists the help her pageant queen sister who gives her a makeover, which is problematic in and of itself because that perpetuates the idea that girls need to wear makeup and dress a certain way in order to attract boys. The most iconic scene, however is the prank call. Jodi’s childhood bully: Kimmy and her henchman call Jodi posing as Stig and ask her to homecoming, but later reveal that it was a prank. The implication is that no one would ever love Jodi because she’s a foot taller than the average height of a woman. I found it a bit unrealistic because I don’t think being tall would warrant that kind of extreme reaction. Her new look, however does catch the attention of Stig and he invites her over (romantically, even though he is dating Kimmy) to watch a movie. At the end of the movie, they kiss, even though they know it’s wrong. Her new look also piques the interest of yet another boy, who is none other than Kimmy’s henchman. Now, I want to note here that Jodi’s biggest insecurity with her height is that boys don’t like her (which also perpetuates the idea that a women’s value is tied to men wanting them) but so far every man in the movie so far has shown romantic interest in Jodi. So, it doesn’t seem to be that big of a problem. The last thing I want to say about this movie pertains to the ending where Jodi ends up with Jack. First of all, I find the romance forced and last minute, as the whole movie is spent on Jodi and Stig and the last maybe 5 minutes is spent on Jack. Second of all, I just think his character is a little problematic, as he refuses to take no for an answer and at times seems manipulative and possessive. What bothers me is that he still ends up with Jodi, despite her not showing any romantic interest in him throughout the film. I don’t think that's a good message to be sending. Also, turns out, the reason he carries all of his books in a milk crate is so that he could eventually stand on it and kiss Jodi one day, which he reveals at the end of the movie where they share the most awkward kiss known to man.

Shakespeare is often praised as a man ahead of his time, producing pieces with subtle, or sometimes even overt, liberal ideology. And while I am not going to try and deny that Shakespeare did have more culturally advanced ideas portrayed through his works (for example, you cannot convince me that Coriolanus is not a deliberate and romantic homoerotic text), I am going to focusing on feminist critique of Shakespeare's plays. The Fate of Shakespearean Women Women seldom receive satisfying endings to their stories (and lives) in Shakespeare's plays… especially strong, “insubordinate” women. Consider Lady Macbeth from, of course, Macbeth. Lady Macbeth is seen as dominant within her marriage to Macbeth, being portrayed as non-maternal and unloving-- the opposite of what a woman should be. She is responsible for Macbeth’s entrapment and murdering of King Duncan, along with the Weird Sisters’ prediction (whose ugliness makes them seem less like women and more like beasts). Macbeth, on the other hand, while being a powerful warrior in battle, is a coward in his own life as he is submissive to his wife’s demands. Being that Macbeth is a tragedy, the couple separately meets unsettling ends. For her brain and dominance Lady Macbeth dies by what is suggested as suicide. For his cowardness, Macbeth is caught and punished for his crimes. Now consider Katherine Minola, the “shrew” from Taming of the Shrew (or Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You if you prefer). Katherine, despite being physically beautiful, is undesirable because of her intelligence, wit and her refusal to submit and become the property of a man. Her sister Bianca, however, is quiet, submissive, and beautiful and therefore desired by many men. The sisters’ father will not allow Bianca to marry until Katherine herself is married, so a plan to “tame the shrew” is derived so that the men can court the lovely Bianca. Katherine’s “happy” ending is that she is made submissive-- again, as a woman should be-- by her suitor Petruchio (or Patrick Verona in 10 Things I Hate About You). The fire within Katherina is extinguished. Regardless of how “well-behaved” women are in Shakespeare’s plays, they still do not escape gruesome ends. Ophelia (Hamlet) is genuine in her care for Hamlet’s wellbeing and submissive to her father’s demands. She dies by being so sad that she drowns. Desdemona (Othello) is innocent, beautiful and loyal to her husband. She lets her husband strangle her to death because she believes she deserves it (despite not doing anything wrong the entire play). Juliet (Romeo and Juliet) is young and fiercely loyal to Romeo. She kills herself because Romeo was too sad to wait five more minutes for her to wake. Cordelia (King Lear) is honest and nurturing. She gets banished by her father for the majority of the play but returns to care for him when he is succumbing to his madness. She is hanged. The list goes on. Even though many of these examples are tragedies, they do not reflect much of a respect for women on Shakespeare’s end. Even when a woman acts exactly as she should, she rarely is rewarded. Furthermore, female death is often written as a consequence of the male characters’ mistakes, a loss the male protagonist must overcome, or even a way to write out a “flawed” woman character. So what? We have a history of celebrating white men when they admit to believing in liberal views such as feminism and other basic human decencies. Oh, you think that everyone should be treated equally? Wow, you’re so brave! While there is nothing wrong with interpreting Shakespeare’s works through a modern lens, it is important to remember that these texts are not even close to being up to modern standards of progressiveness. Nevertheless, we must still find the power in these badass, Shakespearian women while still recognizing their faults. Shakespeare, while being a bit more progressive in thought, was not capable of seeing these women in the ways we can now. Take Lady Macbeth. She may have been aggressive and met a gruesome end but she was strong, knew what she wanted, and went after it. Despite Macbeth being a powerful warrior who slaughtered hundreds on his sword, Lady Macbeth still was able to assert her dominance over him in their marriage. Take Queen Gertrude, Hamlet’s mother from Hamlet. While getting with her dead husband’s brother is, for lack of a better phrase, a bit icky, she was just prioritizing her happiness and finding love after a great loss. Gertrude may have been ignorant of the plots happening behind her back, but she still deeply cared for the wellbeing of her son and new husband. Again, just because the original viewers/readers of these plays may have not been able to see the true strength in these women, that does not mean we have to be blind to them as well. We have the power to give these female characters a new life and being able to recognize Shakespeare’s original intent for them is the first step in elevating their purpose and motivations.

Feature Image: Janaina Tschäpe, Angervat, from the series "100 Little Deaths," 2002 Live Dangerously was created with a goal: to examine the way that women, and more specifically their bodies, interact with the natural world. To take it a step further, the goal of the exhibit was to subvert the way that women are traditionally depicted in nature. These women, all shot by women, are not here for male consumption. They’re not here to be idyllic and beautiful. These women are here to take claim. The exhibit is made up of the work of twelve photographers: Louise Dahl-Wolfe, Janaina Tschäpe, Dana Hoey, Mwangi Hutter, Xaviera Simmons, Kirsten Justesen, Justine Kurland, Rania Matar, Ana Mendieta, Anna Gaskell, Laurie Simmons, and Graciela Iturbide. Second Image: Rania Matar, Rayven, Miami Beach, Florida, from the series "She," 2019 One of the most compelling series of photos was Janaina Tschäpe’s "100 Little Deaths," which pictured a woman lying face-down on the Earth in several different places. All 100 photographs in the collection are being showed, which is a first for the artist. My favorite photograph was Justine Kurland's, "Smoke Bombs." It features three adolescent women sitting in the grassy part of an overpass, setting off fireworks. When I thought about the chilly weather and the crowded traffic of D.C., I wanted to be there, with those girls, finding ways to cure boredom in a seemingly endless summer. Kurland also shows these girls skinny dipping and climbing trees. It’s an expression of freedom but it’s also commentary about gender. It’s so common to see photos of boys doing things like climbing trees or setting off fireworks. Young women were, for so long, never shown doing these fun or reckless activities, but Kurland set out to change that. This is just two examples of some of the great work shown in this exhibit, and it’s really a must-see. Don’t miss your chance to see these women in all their disruptive, nonconforming, and natural glory. The Live Dangerously exhibit is on display at the National Museum of Women in the Arts until January 20, 2020. Tickets are $8 for students.