Tales of a Poor, Fat, Queer Latina in a World of Thin, White Privilege
Thursday, August 2, 2012
diary of a queer woman of colour/film student
This is something I posted on Tumblr last night. I decided to put it here as well.
I like intense films.
I like when important characters die. I like when their death means
something deeper than just another one biting the dust for the sake of
beefing up the body count, when someone who they loved and trusted is
responsible for it.
I like when the person responsible loves them too. I like when they
are conflicted about the murder and have to live with the guilt.
I like when actors look awful. I like when make up artists spend
their energy making their eyes look puffy and when they have stubble and
disheveled hair and bruises and look like they haven’t showered in days
when their characters haven’t showered in days. Or when they look like
they just woke up when their character just woke up.
I like when time is malleable and the film doesn’t unfold in
chronological order. I like the challenge, having to figure out what’s
going on and hate being led by the hand.
I like when actors surprise themselves and everyone else. When they
leave their comfort zone, when they ad-lib and go out on a limb and even
I like when questions of morality are used to disrupt the status quo. I don’t like when they reinforce it.
I don’t like when films insult my intelligence.
I don’t like the way some human beings are reduced to stereotypes
while others enjoy the warm hues of complexity. I don’t like narratives
with double standards or when women are objectified and not treated
with the same respect by the camera as men or when people from oppressed
groups are made the butt of the joke… or the villain.
I like films. I like to watch them. I like to analyze them. What I don’t like is feeling like they don’t like me.