Late to the Show: J.K. Rowing Twitter Drama

I am disappointed, and I feel alienated about J.K. Rowling's antics. I don't follow J.K. Rowling on Twitter, but I occasionally follow up on her tweets when BuzzFeed posts about it. Like her Author Avatar Hermione Granger, J.K. Rowling has strong opinions on social issues especially those pertaining to racial and gender conflicts. At first, I brushed it off as "pandering" to her American fans, who have racial and gender struggles mostly figured out. But I've discovered through multiple videos on YouTube in the last month that my beloved author who has inspired me to become a writer, has become a Trump hating, self-hating white upper class feminist that panders to Black Lives Matter and wants to open the Western borders to Arabs that can potentially be terrorists.
Now, it's one thing to be passionate about the plight of colored people immigrating into first world countries in the West, but after some time, it's been coming off to me like she's just trying to stay relevant somehow, especially after The Casual Vacancy flopped. Furthermore, she's been alienating fans that might have different political opinions, especially when it comes to American politics. I know it shouldn't have to color my perception of her, but it does because she's being kind of a jerk about it too. And now, I hear her fans have been demanding that she put her money where her mouth is.


Now, I appreciate celebrities who are passionate about the cause of their choice. I respect that Lady Gaga championed marriage equality despite being mostly straight herself. I respect that Linkin Park built an organization to help victims of natural disasters. I respect Shakira for fostering education in her home country of Colombia. And I especially respect Angelina Jolie for immersing herself in impoverished communities in the third world. But these other celebrities actually make formal speeches, raise money, or help build infrastructure to help the less fortunate, while all J.K. Rowling does is tweet about it.

[Zootopia SPOILERS] Interpreting Nick and Judy for Fan Fiction; or, the Question of Who Is More Mature

"Smort!"

When I first watched Zootopia, Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps distinctively reminded me of Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago in Brooklyn Nine-Nine. As the illustration shows, I was not the only one who noticed. While Jake Peralta is the lead character of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Amy Santiago is an equally strong character in the main cast. The two characters are amicable coworkers who often clash with one another, in an eerily similar way that Nick and Judy struggled in the first act of the movie.

"Title of your sex tape?"

Like Judy Hopps, Amy Santiago is a competitive young woman who is determined to prove how tough she is. She is also quite a stickler for the rules and often has to call out Jake whenever he is less-than-professional in his ways. While Jake and the rest of the Nine-Nine detective squad do respect her and take her seriously, they don't miss the chance to tease her, often insinuating that she is childish or old-fashioned or even unskilled. While she is good at her job, Jake manages to be a quicker thinker than she is, with less effort.

Like Nick Wilde, Jake Peralta is witty, snarky, and has a big heart under a flippant attitude. While Jake has had a tough childhood, it had more to do with having a broken family than any sort of bullying. He also clashes with his superior Captain Raymond Holt but comes to respect him more as the series progresses; not unlike Nick's burgeoning relationship with Chief Bogo.

But that is where the similarities end. In a way, Judy Hopps has a bit of Jake Peralta in her, too. While Jake is openly rebellious toward his strict boss, Captain Holt, because he prefers go off on his own path where he thinks his own way of solving crimes is more efficient, Judy goes against regulations because of a misplaced sense of righteousness. With Judy being Nick's superior by the end of the movie, we don't exactly see how Nick performs on his new job as a cop.

But what's beautiful about Zootopia is that it maintains an element of mystery regarding its two leads. We see nothing of Judy in the fifteen years between Gideon Grey's attack and training at the Zootopia Police Academy. All we know about Nick is that a traumatic event at age 9 destroyed his optimism while a combination of poverty and discrimination had him running marginally legitimate and ethically questionable hustles every day for 20 years from the age of 12. The rest of the movie spans two days, a montage that spans three months, and an indeterminate time skip between the climax and the epilogue. The narrative is chiefly plot-oriented, leaving plenty of room for interpretation for the characters involved. It also helps that the narrative acknowledges that personalities are multifaceted; nobody is fully good or evil, and that even some biases are justifiable.

Much of the ambiguous elements of the movie are intentional, and cleverly so. While there are a myriad of interpretations of the characters through Zootopia fan fiction, the interpretation for Nick and Judy is surprisingly consistent. Apparently, fans regard Judy as the "more mature" half of the pair while Nick doesn't really take anything seriously. While this can (and has been) done pretty well in the many pieces of fan fiction I've read, something about the idea feels a little off, to me.

Nick is usually written as a slob who is good at his job but otherwise favors fun over work to the point of being lazy sometimes, which is problematic to me. You don't make "200 bucks a say, 365 days a year" for 20 years by being lazy. I don't imagine Nick being dependent on Judy for anything. I don't think his ego could handle that. Furthermore, I think having a legitimate career would be so fulfilling for him that he would be dedicated to it, so he could keep it and his Carrots.

The "lazy, immature Nick" idea is usually lifted from a set of concept art by digital artist Armand Serrano including the pitiful state of Nick's apartment, which is a leaky basement in a building in the Rainforest District. We never see this apartment in the movie, but fans accept it as canon anyway. But I for one don't see his living quarters' dingy condition as an indication of laziness. With that many pipes shooting out from every which way and leaking onto the floor and through the walls all the time, I don't see how it is possible for him to keep his living space tidy anyway. It's a legitimate idea, but it's also an iffy one.

Despite being decidedly more serious than Nick, Judy has displayed some degree of childishness throughout the movie, especially in the first act. She risks breaking police protocol and disregards her status as the rookie of her precinct. Her class valedictorian status shoots up her ego to the point that she feels entitled to make demands instead of keeping her head down like any other newbie in any career track. In the third act, she lets her ignorance and naïveté get the best of her, hurting Nick in the process. Sure, she seems to have adulthood figured out, but her shortcomings are something people out to remember sometimes, when they attempt to interpret her. Seriousness doesn't necessarily equate maturity.

In romantic narratives, Nick's perceived immaturity is often interpreted as being emotionally stunted. Having made a conscious decision as a little kit onwards to build a barrier of humor around himself, Nick is interpreted that having closed off his emotions to everyone else has made it difficult for him to address his own emotions to himself. In many of the narratives, Judy--in typical romantic comedy lead fashion--would have to pry him out of his shell while he struggles to say "I love you" to her even know he knows it painfully well. Again, this makes for some rich drama, but it comes off cliché and amateurish in less than skilled hands.

They might be borrowing a little too much Jake Peralta elements in interpreting Nick. Whereas Jake is genuinely confident and his Class Clown persona is drawn from being immature (and Daddy Issues), it's mostly a mask, a defense mechanism for Nick. Nick is more intelligent and mature than he seems at first glance. His contributions to Judy's investigation in the movie indicates that he is a sharp thinker and likely more introspective as well. Few fan fiction writers have written Nick as having figured out his feelings for Judy; hence, dropping the L-bomb at the end of the movie.

Contrary to Jake Peralta being "uncomfortable with emotions" (yes, he says that at one point), I see Nick Wilde to be quite in touch with his emotions. The fact that he chooses to conceal them to others may or may not be the same as being "emotionally stunted." It is understood among both the writers of the film and the film's fans that humor is a psychological defense mechanism for Nick, but considering the complexity of his character, it's entirely possible that keeping a mask on does not necessarily equate having a case of emotions he can't unlock on his own. As far as I see it, Nick's humor tends to match whatever he's feeling at the moment. He is passive-aggressive when he is annoyed; he goes off on tirade laced with offensive slang when he is especially ruffled; and he teases others when he is happy. He becomes transparent, however, when he is scared, angry, or contemplative. In other words, he is in control. And if telling his backstory to Judy in the Rainforest District is of any indication, he seems to have no problem opening up to someone once he is close to them.

So what's with the recurring drama of Nick being reluctant to just tell Judy he loves her? Wasn't he the one who dropped the L-word at the end of the movie? Granted, neither of them says it outright, but Nick saying, "You know you love me," sounds like a straight "I love you" is in the near future.

It deeply bothers me that many fans of the film regard Nick and Judy as opposites when they're not. They have similar ideals, and when it comes to both smarts and strength, I like to think they're more or less the same as well. They just have a slightly different temperament. Nick and Judy interact similarly to Jake and Amy respectively, but the analogy isn't exact. While I am also inclined to think that Nick isn't as obsessed with becoming a police officer as Judy, he doesn't come off as someone who would skimp on paperwork or come to work late, which are common Officer Nick Wilde traits in fan fiction. If he would be dedicated enough to sell enough Pawpsicles or fur rugs to make $200 a day, every day for 20 years, he certainly could show as much dedication to being a police officer. If this is the case, Judy would have no need to nag him about anything. After all, they've been on the same page since surviving Manchas' attack.

Never Forget: A Call to Unity

When I saw this post last year, a familiar fury gripped me and then grew with the supportive feedback that I got from a few friends.

"I hope more people can not be so narrow-minded and realise how Islam should not be blamed for an individual’s act because Islam stands for peace not terrorism."
Posted by The Guardian on Tuesday, November 24, 2015

It was like being back in late 2001 and early 2002. Fresh from the 9/11 attacks in which members of the Al-Qaida deliberately crashed one airplane into the Pentagon and one airplane each into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, anti-Islam sentiments were on the rise. Fed up with the violence against innocent members of the Muslim community, Prince released this controversial music video:



Now, it's one thing to sympathize with perfectly harmless people who happen to be Muslim. But it's another thing to see all these attacks by Muslim extremists and keep defending them. "Not all Muslims are terrorists. The terrorists are extremists." "I have friends who are Muslim, and they are good people." "Well, Christians massacred Muslims in the Crusades, too."

Let's face it: Most of these attacks were conducted by Muslim groups. Why should the rest of us not feel fear or even a bit of apprehension toward our Muslim brothers? Why are the people who claim to be forward-thinking so quick to defend "innocent" Muslims when our Christian and Jewish brothers are literally dying by their brothers' hands? I'm pretty sure some of them want this animosity to stop too. But to start that, they have to recognize that the hostiles are among their group, and these peaceful Muslims ought to learn to stand with the rest of us if they want peace.

We ought to not turn a blind eye to what these stories tell us. As soon as we ignore the common denominator in these attacks, the hashtag #NeverForget becomes null and void. We have effectively forgotten. Let me share raw video footage from someone who was actually there:

9/11 - September 11, 2001. Raw, Real and Honest video recorded by ANDRES BARRILA from andres barrila on Vimeo.

Do you remember now? Do you remember the fear, the pain, the rage? I do.

If this were happening today, there would be a spike in social media about this tragedy, and within hours, a vocal minority would complain about news and social media attention that New York is getting and then point out that other cities in the Middle East have been suffering worse for a long time. Sounds familiar? But this isn't a new phenomenon of misplaced compassion. It was December of 2001 or early summer of 2002 when a young speaker visited my school to talk about 9/11. I don't remember his name, but I sorely wish I did. It was a young man, probably a college student or a graduate student. Seems intelligent enough, but he was incredibly antipathetic toward 9/11. I remember feeling an incredibly rage when he began mouthing off about how the attack on the World Trade Center was in retaliation for America apparently "stealing oil" from Iraq and abusing the people there. Being female and 13 years old at the time, I felt utterly helpless. I wanted to yell at him about how wrong he was. But the rage I felt effectively blew the words out of my mind. It didn't matter that, at the time, I was a 13-year-old Filipina girl living halfway around the world. I could only imagine the horror: What would it have been like to have seen it with my own eyes; the terror that anybody I love were there, in the towers or in the planes or in the surrounding areas? Thousands of New Yorkers died that day, and thousands more lost people they loved. In late 2001, it didn't matter to me that most victims were upper-class white Americans. They were people with families, friends, loved ones. Some of them died without knowing what happened. Some of them died screaming in the fire. And some of them died holding hands as they plummeted to the pavement at the foot of the towers. None of this is something anybody deserves, ever. And how is crashing two airplanes into two of the tallest buildings in the world, full of people, proportionate with stealing oil? The attack is wrong, and justifying it is wrong.

Maybe some Muslims have nothing to do with it. I appreciate that many people have the good sense to recognize that and leave them alone. It just infuriates me whenever a Muslim gets attacked and plays the victim, like she or he has no idea where the attack was coming from. People have been hurt and have lost lives and loved ones in these terrorist attacks. We have the right to be angry. We have the right to be wary. These terrorists live in a better, more enlightened world than the Crusaders did. If we want peace, let us strive for solidarity.

I Just Have a Lot of Feelings; or, On Shipping Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps

I once told myself I wasn't going to watch Zootopia. After the colossal disasters Maleficent and Cinderella, I didn't have much faith in Disney anymore. But after seeing Zootopia's impressive Certified Fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes and a gentle nudge by a close friend, I decided to see for myself what was good about this revival of Disney's tradition of anthropomorphic animal characters. Well, needless to say, I was hooked. Zootopia is an incredibly intelligent film, a modern fable about racism and prejudice.

Beyond that, it is something of a love story. Seemingly following Frozen's tradition of rejecting romantic love as the only standard of love, Zootopia presents the unlikely friendship of a fox con artist and a rabbit cop. Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps are such strong characters with great chemistry together that fans such as myself cannot resist imagining them as a couple. For weeks since I first saw the film (and I have now watched it more times in the three weeks than I watched Frozen in three years), I indulged myself with plenty of Zootopia fan fiction. I am proud to say that the Zootopia fandom have such talented and intelligent people writing stories I can barely come up with. Many stories further explore the themes of the film. Some present the excitement and danger of police work. And most of these stories use the movie's political themes as a backdrop for the romance of Nick and Judy. It's all incredibly fun to read. However, I have noticed a few patterns that are problematic to me.

A common Fanon dynamic between Nick and Judy is that, being the younger half of the two, Judy tends to be portrayed as the oblivious ingenue. If this trope is active, Nick would be friendzoned until he either makes an Anguished Declaration Of Love or Judy somehow learns that her affection for him is deeper than friendship. And when they do hook up, they get excited about the relationship like teenagers.

Now, I appreciate these writers and their imagination, but I think it goes against the organic development of the two characters' relationship. Their love, regardless of whether it is philia (Platonic love) or eros (romantic love), is based on mutual respect and trust because they overcame their differences and their prejudice against one another. Regardless of what kind of love it is, it is love nonetheless. Their mutual affection is no secret to either of them, so there is little to no need for a big reveal that they love each other. If love has been there all along, it just has to grow into something more, slowly, not suddenly.

Furthermore, these are two adult characters, not teenagers. Judy is 24, and Nick is about 32, possibly the oldest leads in the Disney Animated Canon. I think it's safe to say that they would respond to any ensuing romance differently from our adolescent Disney Princesses. Either they remain friends or make a mutual decision to take their relationship to the next level, whatever that might entail. I imagine the only real drama would be the outside forces that might be working against them.

Flex Like Carrie

For this Halloween, I'd like to celebrate how I became a writer. It was mid-2001, and I was a 13-year-old high school freshman. Unknowingly suffering from depression from near-constant school bullying since age 5, art was my release. But besides drawing for leisure, I was in love with reading. I was also a budding writer at the time. I didn't know it back then because I didn't know that it was actually difficult for some people to express themselves in writing when, in my mind, all I really have to do is use proper grammar, mind my spelling, and use slang with care, and adopt minimal profanity. I was an avid reader, and I might have read most literary classics if it weren't for my depression draining me of energy and enthusiasm for doing the things that I love.

This makes me extremely thankful for a friend of mine for recommending Carrie by Stephen King to me. I was unfamiliar with Stephen King at the time, and until Carrie, the only novels I've read were the Harry Potter books. So, Carrie was a refreshing read for me. The false document style of the novel was ingenious work, quite an achievement for somebody's first novel. Most importantly, as someone who was made to be a social outcast at school, Carrie White was my hero. Reading about how she destroyed the prom and almost everyone there gave me the most satisfying feeling. The prom scene from the 1976 adaptation starring Sissy Spacek did not quite do it justice. 37 years of technological advancement in filmmaking did the trick. When I watched the 2013 adaptation starring Chloe Moretz (who also looked like Carrie from the book), the experience was exactly how I read the book.



Watching this brings me back to that day in the library when I read this scene from the book and just felt so exhilarated that I had to write my "version." Instead, I got a better idea: I wrote an entirely different novel around the idea of a bullied schoolgirl with a supernatural ability. I will not disclose any more details about my novel. The point is that Stephen King's Carrie introduced me to a genre that I love. Beyond just horror, he adopts a degree of magical realism and combines horror elements with prolific storytelling inspired from Alfred Hitchcock and film adaptations of Edgar Allan Poe's works. Stephen King's novels and adaptations of his works don't need many Jump Scares, if any at all. Carrie and The Shining are two of the most effective horror movies where the scare is entirely in the storytelling.

I might not be able to move objects with my mind, but I can write stories well. And perhaps, like Stephen King, I can inspire others, too.

An Artist's Lament: Reacting to Gab Valenciano's Facebook Post

Earlier today, I had a very interesting and insightful chat with a Filipino Uber driver and he said something that stuck...
Posted by Gabriel Valenciano on Sunday, September 13, 2015

I just realized I hadn't Liked or Shared this post until now, because I was so awestruck at Gab Valenciano's message that I read it, contemplated on it for a few moments, and went back to work. (I might have been subtitling an urgent Jimmy Fallon episode at the time.) What struck me about this post is that it gave me an overwhelming relief that I'm not alone, that even the handsome and talented son of an equally handsome and talented singer/actor/dancer feels marginalized in the industry where his own father is being celebrated in nearly three decades now. He's right: It's difficult to be an artist in the Philippines. Specific fields are given especial importance, but individuals aren't typically encouraged to pursue any of them, because we are brought up from childhood to pursue corporate work. When I was a child, everybody's dream job was to work "in an office," like you see on TV, where people work in cubicles and wear slacks and dress shirts and neckties. At the time, my parents were an Air Force pilot and a nurse, which were considerably more active than working "in an office." What on earth do you actually do in an office anyway? While I didn't see anything particularly wrong with that, I didn't see myself in that kind of environment. Even when I began to show signs of artistic talent in both visual art and writing, it didn't occur to me until college that I could pursue art as a career. Neither society nor the educational system encourages the idea. They don't present us with steps to take that path, either. Anyone who expresses the desire to do so is typically discouraged because art in any form is ultimately economically impractical and does not contribute to society whatsoever.

While I am lucky enough to have parents who were happy to let me study Literature in college, it's after graduation that I felt the brunt of the fact that, particularly in this country, art is not a career opportunity. When I search for "writing jobs," all I get are outsourcing companies trying to snag frustrated artists by slapping the word "creative" in their job advertisements. This is why art isn't encouraged. It has little to no value for corporations, who need expendable skilled workers to work for them and pay for their time. There are no such companies actively seeking an artist. Artists have to look for their own ways to earn income; and while the educational system does encourage creativity, it doesn't teach artists how to earn without relegating their art into a useless hobby.

Some might say I bear the mark of my generation, the one that isn't satisfied with having just any little job just to earn some money. But I believe that work isn't just a means to earn money; it is self-fulfillment, and nothing fulfills me more than art. Henceforth, I became determined to find a job where my skills for perfect my art can be exercised. After nearly two years as an article writer in an overworking-but-low-paying SEO reseller, I felt that I was part of a machine rather than a human being creating organic art.

Fast forward to 2015, I am back to working "in an office" - albeit a casual wear office - but it's still an 8-hour job. And while I love my job very much (Who wouldn't want to get paid watching random movies and TV show episodes?), this still isn't what I wanted for myself. I want to be writing the movies and TV series instead of transcribing them. I sought to become a TV writer and revolutionize Philippine TV. However, the steps I have taken did not lead me there. The options available to me could lead me only to corporate work, and only corporate work could give me a stable income. But it would never be fulfilling.

Having read the younger Valenciano's sad post, I realize that I probably couldn't have changed anything even if I did make it into a broadcasting network. While my screenwriting mentor has taught my classmates and me about the value of creative integrity, writers have little control over what happens to their scripts when directors interpret them on the set. At the end of the day, all studios care about is the money they get for giving their target audience what they want instead of what they need. They want modern fairy tales even though they need thought-provoking narratives of multiple genres. It's like giving a child chips and candy when they're clearly in need of vegetables and lean meat. But the television and film industry isn't about to let me give my audience a healthy diet of substance. Jerrold Tarog might have been lucky that his Heneral Luna was met with high regard, but I'm seriously afraid that such beautiful filmmaking won't extend to other genres any time soon because the media is much too engrossed in following silly trends instead of setting them with meaningful stories.

I don't know what's going to happen to me if I do what Gab Valenciano did and go to the US to pursue art. But I do hope that when I do, I'll not only write, but also draw and paint again.

On Heneral Luna

This isn’t going to be a review but merely a reaction.  It is true what people have been saying online about the movie, in the last few weeks.  Filipinos deserve more movies like that--not necessarily socially relevant historical films but rather films that take extra care with aesthetics, context, semiotics, and substance to make us think as much as we feel.

Heneral Luna is a unique historical narrative in that examines the ills of Philippine society and how we’re as awful at handling power and politics as the Philippines under Aguinaldo had been.  It is a retrospective sort of commentary on the fact that, despite everything that our national heroes have done for us, they are a fraction of a greater whole--and the majority, just as they are now, are selfish, undiscerning people with no integrity. It is a lamentation of the fact that people like Antonio Luna is in short supply.  Despite the impact he had made in the Philippine-American War, we weren’t unable to stay independent, largely because we were either incapable of it, or that the powers that be thought we were.

A lot of people in social media seem to get caught in the delusion that we all feel like Antonio Luna.  “Akala mo ba, ikaw lang ang nagmamahal sa Pilipinas?  Mahal ko rin ang Pilipinas!” Buencamino says to him at one point.  The fact that a lot of us are hypocrites like Buencamino; indecisive like Mabini; or, stubborn like Aguinaldo--is a big pill to swallow.  Even for me, the love for country is but an abstract thought.  We can’t all be shooting at the enemy on horseback.  We can’t all be yelling at the President and his council about integrity.  This was exactly the point of the movie.

Lapu-Lapu fought in Mactan; Spain still conquered the Philippines.  They stayed for 300 years despite several rebellions through all that time.  Antonio Luna strove to maintain the independence that Aguinaldo declared in June 12, 1898; the Americans still came to the islands and stayed for the next 40 years.  We needed help from America to drive the Japanese away.

We aren’t like Leonidas and the 300, who held off the Persians and inspired Greece to fight.  We aren’t like Vlad Dracula, who literally scared off the Ottomans by impaling both enemy soldiers and common criminals with tall spikes.  The difference is that both Lapu-Lapu and Luna had their own leaders to answer to, and their bosses didn’t share their sentiments.  Whereas Leonidas and Dracula were kings of their lands and therefore had the power to preserve the sovereignty of their dominion.

I felt the chill of helplessness as the credits rolled and I walked out of the theater.  Everyone including me was inspired by the story we just witnessed.  But I looked around me in the inside of the mall.  Everything I saw was the sign of defeat.  Text and signs in English; pale models in advertisements; foreign brands; local brands modeled after them.  While I personally acknowledge the good parts of foreign influence on Philippine culture, I can’t help but wonder what could have been.  What would the Philippines be like if our ancient kings weren’t diplomatic to a fault?  What if more people shared the fierceness or integrity of Lapu-Lapu, Bonifacio, Luna, or Silang?  What if more people were authentic?  What if Filipinos lived up to their ideals?

Well, if Filipinos value integrity as much as much as we think we do, I would be living in a peaceful and self-sufficient Philippines instead of writing a story around my daydreams of one.