Spinster: An Affable Film About Self-Acceptance

If you google the film Spinster, you will see that it has a 56% rating on Metacritic and hovers at around 3 out of 5 stars on multiple publications. Suffice it to say that the critical reception has been tepid. As someone who has more deference for critics than any good critical thinker should, it takes a lot for me to shove past them and bravely approach a work of cinema intending to formulate my own opinion about its quality. But with a film called Spinster, I just had to. 

Though I was initially put off by 39-year-old Gaby's antagonistic behavior toward everyone she encounters in the first ten minutes of the film, I still knew I was in good hands, both with the creative team and with the film's star, Chelsea Peretti. Writer Jennifer Deyell shows us that Gaby's antagonistic tendencies are over the top but are still prompted by the world around her. 

The first person who we see Gaby (Peretti) antagonize is a woman who is a little too excited to be getting married. This character tells the romantic story of how she met her fiancé, congratulating herself excessively for participating in the sacred tradition of monogamy, and she makes some hyperbolic statement about how love is the most natural human tendency. Gaby responds sardonically, with a look of sheer exhaustion on her face, and she drives away this potential customer for her catering business. It is clear that Gaby has been worn down by the pressure to happily engage in a long-term romantic partnership. A couple of scenes later, in what is perhaps the film's most outrageous moment, she blows off steam by kicking over a water cooler at a softball game that she attends to try and meet men.

As far as our society has come in its acceptance of single women, and single adults in general, it is still difficult to navigate environments in which being married with children is the norm. Spinster shows us how alienating these environments can be for single people. Gaby ends up in social situations with married folks at numerous points throughout the film, and even when she is standing up for herself in a way that is entirely warranted, you can see that she is not her best self. When anticipating or enduring the judgment of her married peers, Gaby is on the defensive, which does not lead to her most shining moments.

However, the film also shows us what happens when Gaby ends up in an environment where people are primarily concerned with things other than their spouses and children, if they even have those. She is finally afforded some breathing room when attends a party held by her neighbor, a gray-haired biology professor who just happens to be a spinster herself. The guests are graduate students who are more concerned with the bone structure of birds than they are with romance. When Gaby meets them, she feels at ease and is able to open herself up to connection.

As one tepid review pointed out, this is not earth-shattering content. We've all heard this story before: A character feels ashamed of the ways that they deviate from the norm, but they eventually find acceptance, both internally and externally. They are then able to move past their self-consciousness and turn their attention to the outside world, positively impacting those around them. It's a simple story, but I don't think it gets old. 

I enjoyed spending time with Gaby and seeing her grow from someone who sucks all the air out of the room to someone who knows her strengths and shares them with those around her. Over the course of the film, she adopts a dog, teaches her niece how to knit, gently critiques her brother's standup set, and opens a super cute restaurant. Rather than focusing on defending herself, she actively contributes to her community.

This is not a heavy-hitting film. It won't necessarily cause you to bust out laughing, but it has a sense of lightness to it, and that's what this story deserves. It's the story of a woman building her confidence and finding her place. Since she is a straight white woman who comes from a family with money, the odds are not exactly stacked against her, and the vast majority of her work is internal. Spinster acknowledges the magnitude of Gaby's challenges while keeping the tone appropriately light. 

I am not going to remember this film forever, and it did not change my life, but I liked it! I had a good time, and I related to the specific experience of trying to explain yourself to people who are not open to the idea that a person can be ok without a romantic partner. Though I am disappointed by the lukewarm critical reception, most people are likely willing to push past unenthusiastic reviews. In fact, many people do not even look at reviews. I am one of the few who can name the film critics for major US publications off the top my head, and one of the few who regard them as celebrities. This is a good thing.

The Universal Appeal of the Dance Floor Love Song

I haven’t listened to Taylor Swift’s evermore yet. This is partially because I got my fill five months ago with folklore and partially because I had an overblown reaction to some of the lyrics in “willow,” the opening track. This did not entice me to pursue the album further. In “willow,” Taylor sings about a romantic relationship that has arrived unexpectedly, and in the final lines of the chorus, she says: “I’m begging for you to take my hand / Wreck my plans, that’s my man.” My misandry runs deep, so the mere mention of a man is enough to turn me off, but that’s not the only thing going on for me here. The aspect of this couplet that really rubs me the wrong way is that I sense a bit of smugness. Not only does Taylor mention a man, but she also uses a possessive pronoun in relation to him. “That’s my man.” I was thrilled to discover at age 25 that it was ok to fail at heterosexuality, that there was a place in the world for people like me, but a part of me still feels loss. I will never be able to string the words “my” and “man” together, and I resent the way it sounds so triumphant here.

Despite the conspiracy theories, Taylor Swift is likely a straight lady. Meanwhile, I am aromantic asexual, an orientation that the majority of the population does not even know exists. This is why my brain took “That’s my man,” a relatively innocuous line, and interpreted it as Taylor Swift flaunting her normalcy.

This kind of reaction is typical for me. I love pop culture and cannot get enough of it, but my response is often pointed, and consuming pop culture can be emotionally taxing for me. However, there is one subgenre of pop music that I find to be pure, uncomplicated fun. It is called the dance floor love song, and I made up the name myself. Since I made it up, I also get to decide its key features. Much like English grammar, there are exceptions to these rules; however, in its purest form, the dance floor love song contains:

-   Concise and vague lyrics about a wonderful and exciting relationship

-   Prominent use of electronic beats

That’s it. Those are the key features. I don’t ask for much.

“Feel So Close” by Calvin Harris is a paragon of the genre. It only has one verse, and the lyrics are vague and evocative at the same time, more about a feeling than a specific story. Harris sings about someone who he “feels so close” to, and he illustrates it with the following image: “Your love pours down on me / surrounds me like a waterfall.” This relationship provides safety, and it is rare and beautiful and powerful. (Also, loud? Can you imagine what your life would be like if you had a literal waterfall surrounding you?)

Harris’ single verse also includes the line “There’s no stopping us right now,” which hints at a feeling of invincibility. This relationship is the shit. It provides sunshine and rainbows; waterfalls and invincibility. Aside from the total euphoria that they depict, the best thing about these lyrics is that the pronouns are “I” and “you.” Anybody could be “I” and “you.” Harris is “I,” and the listener is also “I,” and “you” could be anybody we want it to be. It can be someone of any age, gender, or sexual orientation, and it doesn’t have to be someone with whom the listener has a romantic relationship. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be one person. These lyrics are vague enough that any listener who has ever felt close to any one person or group of people can relate.

The lyrics are gloriously inclusive but specific enough to evoke the feeling of liberation that comes with connecting with others and feeling safe with them. The instrumentals evoke this feeling as well. In the pre-chorus, there is just one synthesizer melody, but when we get into the chorus, we get a fuller sound with additional layers. The progression from the pre-chorus into the chorus feels like an ascent, and once you’ve made it, you are thoroughly uplifted. If you weren’t dancing, you might be floating.

“Feel So Close” is perfection. It is the best dance floor love song in the world, but there are many that are nearly as good. Even if you move away from EDM, where we have been thus far, and firmly plant yourself in the world of traditional pop music, this type of song remains prominent. “Now That I Found You” by Carly Rae Jepsen is one of the great dance floor love songs with a traditional pop lyric structure.

In this absolute banger, Jepsen sings about a new and exciting relationship. She says that their connection is “just like a miracle,” that she is “coming alive” with this person, and that “there is nothing like this feeling, baby!” The instrumentals reinforce the euphoria of the lyrics, pulling you in with an ethereal echo during the first verse and maintaining an airy quality throughout. Just like Harris in “Feel So Close,” Jepsen evokes the feeling of magic (waterfalls; invincibility; flying) that comes with discovering a deep connection with another person. There are some hints that the relationship is romantic; for instance, she wakes up in the morning with this person. However, we can ignore this, and also, you can wake up in the morning with a platonic companion such as a pet. Though the listener is likely to infer that Jepsen is discussing a romantic relationship, this is not necessarily the case.

This is an idea that Jepsen playfully entertains in the music video. Just like “Feel So Close,” there is some vague pronoun action in “Now That I Found You,” and the “you” in question could be just about anyone. In the music video, it’s a cat! There is a handsome man who shows up at the end, slightly undermining the way Jepsen subverts our expectations by focusing on a relationship with a pet, but the cat still gets more screen time than the human man.

So far, I have discussed dance floor love songs by Calvin Harris and Carly Rae Jepsen, artists popular among millennials, but let’s talk Gen Z for a moment. Gen Z’s favorite pop culture is the most indicative of what’s to come in the future. So, to make a case for the hipness and vitality of the dance floor love song, allow me to submit for evidence “Stay” by BTS. BTS is the biggest band in the world, and it is hugely popular with younger audiences.

“Stay,” released in November on the album BE, seems like a standard pop song at first. The verses have a traditional pop sound, but the chorus is pure EDM. The first time I listened to it, I was stunned when the chorus arrived and the electronic beats erupted from my computer speakers. It was the best surprise, and I felt like BTS had created this song as personal gift for me.

As is the tradition of the dance floor love song, the only pronouns in this song are “I” and “you.” There are many possible ways that the listener can relate to the lyrics, which are about maintaining a close connection with someone or someones while physically distanced from them. All possible interpretations are valid, but we do have an idea of the meaning that BTS intended.

According to Genius.com, a source that I am trusting for the purposes of this piece, “Stay” is a love song that BTS wrote for their fans. Apparently, this is a thing that they do. I don’t understand it because I am a tiny dinosaur, but I bet it makes a lot more sense to Gen Z. Regardless of my grasp of this cultural phenomenon, I appreciate what this song is doing, and it adds dimension to the dance floor love song genre. It opens up more possibilities. This one is not even about an individual person; it is about a group of people. And it is explicitly not about romance.

“Stay” makes me proud of my favorite subgenre for making it big. If BTS pays attention to your thing, you know it’s a big deal. I was sitting alone in my apartment when I first heard this song, but when the EDM instrumentals kicked in, I raised my open palm to make a “there you have it” gesture, as if I were resting my case, having proven to the universe that the dance floor love song is here to stay.

 

If you want to be surrounded by waterfalls, check out my Dance Floor Love Songs playlist on Spotify.

How BTS Reveals the Power of Sexual Ambiguity

Never Say Never, the 2011 film documenting Justin Bieber's rise to stardom and first stadium tour, is an incredible achievement. New York Times critic Mike Hale called it "exhausting," and he is correct, but it is an invaluable cultural artifact because of its unrestrained heteronormativity. I have seen the film numerous times, and it has shaped my expectations of young male musicians whose audiences are predominantly female.

In the Never Say Never era of his career, Bieber's role within pop culture was nearly identical to that of a traditional boy band. Girls were his primary audience, and he sung about his strong romantic feelings for them. This was his big selling point in the pop culture marketplace, and as Never Say Never depicts, the strategy worked. Girls showed up at his shows, and they also wanted to marry him. In the film, there is a young fan who they interview, probably around age 8, who literally says this. 

Bieber made girls feel special and gave them the opportunity to have a crush on a nonthreatening man from a safe distance. Engaging with his work was a low-stakes way for girls to dip their toes into the water of sexual and romantic attraction to boys. To me, this represents the classic boy band ethos.

When I went to watch BTS' September 2020 Tiny Desk Concert, knowing nothing about the group other than their classification as a boy band, I expected something similar to Never Say Never-era JB. I expected to be at least mildly horrified, and I thought this Tiny Desk Concert would be a heteronormative shitshow. Instead, it was an absolute joy. These men are compelling performers, their camaraderie shines through, and there is not an ounce of overt straightness to be found.

With the exception of aggressively heteronormative works like Never Say Never, I tend to find queerness in most things. You can usually find it if you look hard enough, but with this BTS concert I felt like it was out in the open. The flamboyant costumes and iridescent microphones led me to believe that this was not a strictly heterosexual enterprise. It might seem ridiculous for me to think that a performance is genuinely queer because the singers use shiny microphones, but genuine queer representation has been showing up in mainstream popular culture more often these days. It is far-fetched but not totally unreasonable to think that a boy band could be yet another example of this. 

American pop culture seems to be having a queer awakening. There is a lot of nuance to be had here, but on the representation front, we have seen tremendous improvements in recent years. To provide just a couple of examples, Moonlight won the 2017 Oscar for Best Picture, Janelle Monáe came out as pansexual, and we recently had our first openly gay candidate for the Democratic Presidential Nomination. On the gender side of things, there are prominent trans women like Janet Mock, Laverne Cox, and Jen Richards working in Hollywood. We’re seeing more of the L’s, the G’s, the B’s, and the T’s around, and we’ve even seen some nonbinary and asexual characters popping up in books and on TV shows. Though there is still a massive amount of work to be done, we have made a lot of progress over here. 

BTS is now mainstream: They recently reached #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for the first time, and their presence is ubiquitous in the media. When it comes to the increasing queerness of American pop culture, what are they bringing to the party? On top of their sparkly microphones, eyeliner, and choreographed dance routines, there’s got to be something there. Let us investigate by examining their music videos.

Like Justin Bieber, they had some tacky moments in their early days. I guess all boy bands have their requisite "One Less Lonely Girl" moment: BTS's 2014 "Boy In Luv" music video depicts them wooing a girl. However, as they moved forward in their career, they opted for high-concept, dance-heavy music videos in place of the overt heterosexuality displayed in the screenshot below. From their recent work, you can tell that they want us to behold their beauty, and they also want to titillate, but when their sexual energy is present, it is abstract and not directed at anybody in particular. When it comes to sexual orientation, they maintain their ambiguity, and this is crucial. 

BTS’s 2014 "Boy In Luv" MV

We Americans expect our celebrities and other prominent members of our community to be transparent about their personal lives. Sometimes we even bully them into it! However, celebrity culture is different in South Korea, and K-pop idols tend not to disclose these details. As such, the members of BTS do not publicly state their sexual orientation or relationship history. There is a ton of speculation from fans, but none of them actually know the truth. Coming from an American point of view, this is novel, and coming from a queer point of view, I appreciate that the BTS members are not eager to label themselves. 

Americans, and surely more people around the globe, seem to hold onto the idea that there are neat categories that everyone must fit into. It used to be gay or straight; then it was gay, straight, or bi; and now, if you travel in the right circles, it’s gay, straight, bi, pan, ace, or queer. There are many ways to live a human life, and as more of them are given a name, these categories become less neat. There are increasingly more of them to remember. I am not saying that BTS is intending to do this, and I don’t think they’re going for a queer revolution here, but their ambiguity still provides a challenge to our desire for clear categorization. And I think it is good for us because it encourages us to broaden our sense of possibility. 

"Boy In Luv" was a big find for me. I sought it out on purpose because I had only been spending time in the post-2015 BTS cinematic universe, and I was sure they had something embarrassing in their past. Though I fully expected to find this music video, it was still striking to see the BTS members crushing on a girl. I nearly fell out of my chair, and this is due to the power of their ambiguity.

A far cry from their tacky beginnings, their post-2015 music videos are simply insane. They are gorgeous to look at, and sometimes they even give you a lot to think about. One of their most discussed videos is "Blood Sweat and Tears," and I just need come out and say that this thing is wild. It is so far over the top that you have no choice but to respect the band’s commitment to their artistic vision. 

In this video, the band members are hanging out in an abandoned art museum that doubles as a palace of debauchery. The debauchery is mostly implied but still apparent, and the BDSM themes are hard to miss. There are scenes with the whole band in which they execute choreography involving body rolls and crotch grabs, and there are scenes with individual members or pairs lounging in the bedrooms of the palace. Thematically, the supposed intention of the video is to highlight the pitfalls of giving into temptation, but I see no pitfalls here. I doubt any other viewers do either. This video is glorious.

There is a LOT going on in this video, and there is also a storyline. It is not the easiest to comprehend, but my current understanding of the plot is as follows: All of the members are taking full advantage of the palace of debauchery, aside from Jin, who is a beautiful, art-loving nerd. The others are eager for him to join in on the fun. Incidentally, they are also magical creatures. They are the sexy little forest sprites whispering ideas into his head, and they ultimately succeed in corrupting him. Here's how it plays out.

Two thirds of the way through the video, there is a break in the music, dancing, and seductive lounging. Silence falls, the screen turns red, and RM reads out a Herman Hesse quote about leaving a world of evil behind. Then, there is church organ music (obviously), and my favorite moment of the video commences. Jin is alone with V in the great hall of the museum. V puts his hands over Jin’s eyes for a moment, and when he releases them, there appears a large stone statue, outfitted with black feathery wings, standing on a pedestal in the distance. V exits the hall and leaves Jin to it. Jin walks up the steps of the pedestal, tenderly strokes the sculpture’s face, and then softly and slowly kisses its lips.

On my first viewing, I thought this was a little over the top, even for this video. I thought it was a little heavy handed. But I have since come to appreciate it for the brilliant climactic moment it is. V has manifested the devil in the form of this sculpture, and Jin is being pulled to it by forces of the occult. And my god, I love this plot device. The spiritual pull toward Satan is one of my absolute favorite plot devices of all time. It has been used to great effect in countless works ranging from the 1926 feminist classic Lolly Willowes to this 2016 BTS masterpiece. 

BTS creates an immersive, provocative world in this video, and it is one where sexual orientation has little to do with anything. Is anyone thinking about Jin's sexual orientation as he walks over to the devil sculpture that has magically appeared in the room? I cannot speak for anybody else, but I certainly wasn't. In this video, BTS has created a world where sexual orientation is irrelevant to the issue at hand. It is a world where heteronormativity does not exist and also has never existed. It is a world of endless possibility, where men kiss sculptures that other men have manifested for them through the power of magic. Really, anything is on the table. 

This video is not straight, and it is not gay. It is, however, sensual, audacious, and thrilling. Strikingly, it is still recognizable as boy band fare. You really can’t miss that. There is a moment of choreography where the rest of the members are crouched down so that Jimin can have a solo. He dramatically throws his shoulders back in a very Elvis Presley Rock God kind of way, and he’s really feelin himself, so much so that part of his jacket falls off to reveal his shoulder. He performs the shit out of this two-second solo, and I can think of no other genre of music where this sort of thing would happen. 

Despite the boy band-ness of it all, and perhaps because of it, I adore this video. It has even made me cackle with glee. I got a good friend to watch it, and our subsequent conversation, in which we tried to parse out the video's meaning, made me keel over laughing in the middle of my kitchen. But within the spectacle lies genuine possibility for diversity when it comes to sexual orientation.

I will concede that it takes effort to view BTS within a queer framework. I have formal training in literary analysis and have dabbled in queer theory; even so, this one took me weeks to flesh out. But there’s still something there, and I did all the work of interpretation for you, so I am here to spread the good word. Even with a prominent boy band in our midst, we are moving away from heteronormativity and toward a society where people have a chance to discover their identity without constraints. 

Though BTS' ambiguity is indeed glorious, explicit queer representation remains essential. Queerphobia and transphobia are strong forces within our society, so we need cultural products that highlight the LGBTQIA+ community and showcase our humanity. We need to see ourselves, and others need to get used to seeing us. But engaging with BTS’ work through a queer lens has prompted me to imagine a world where queerphobia does not exist and genuine ambiguity is possible. What if we viewed everyone's sexual orientation as a total blank slate?

If boy bands are to survive in a decreasingly heteronormative landscape, this might be a path forward. I invite future boy bands to make us look at them without an easy means of categorization. I encourage them to embrace sexuality in the abstract. This will allow them to do their job and fulfill their noble purpose on this earth, but it will also push our society forward and allow us to move toward a world where sexual orientation is a non-issue. When we leave all options on the table, we are challenged to view them all as equal.  

A Close and Personal Reading of the Cultural Narrative Surrounding WAP

In the summer of 2020, during a pandemic and a heated social and political climate, Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion released a banger that quickly became a cultural sensation. It was the banger we needed: a playful and humorous song about vaginal secretion. (I am two sentences in, and I think I've already made it unsexy. You can always count on an asexual to do that.) While it certainly has not become a favorite, I still appreciate WAP. I appreciate its chutzpah, and I appreciate that it openly discusses a basic, healthy function of the female assigned reproductive system.

Since the song's release, we have truly seen an infinite number of hot takes, and the one that has resonated with me most was an article in The New York Times called "The Glory (and the Taboo) of 'WAP'," written by gynecologist Jen Gunter. She explains that there is a lengthy history of misinformation that crosses cultures and religions, so she has had to inform many patients that vaginal lubrication is normal and healthy. WAP, this ubiquitous song about the glory of vaginal lubrication, will help correct our deeply rooted misunderstanding that a healthy vagina is a dry vagina. Gunter concludes: "I don’t think "WAP” is going to smash the patriarchy, replace sex education or end predatory feminine hygiene practices, but talking about it is an empowering next step." I agree, Jen Gunter! I enjoyed reading Gunter's measured and informative take, especially after seeing pithy one-liners on Twitter that either praised the song in an exaggerated way or used thinly veiled misogyny to criticize it.

Twitter is a nightmare for finding content from a month ago if you don't have the right keywords, so I literally cannot locate most of the tweets that I saw, but I remember there was one that said something to the effect of "I'm going to write in WAP for president." This is clearly meant to be humorous because a song cannot be president, but it is still an exaggerated claim about the song's power. On the flip side, I saw detractors like Ben Shapiro who called the song graphic and said that it is disempowering to women. These detractors are clearly afraid of female assigned anatomy as well as female sexuality, and I'm glad this song exists to freak them out. This is progress.

With "folklore," how will Taylor Swift's role in pop culture change?

I always liked Taylor Swift based on what little I knew about her music, but I was determined to love her by the time 1989 came around. 1989 was going to be the moment when I finally got to know and love Taylor Swift. I had heard women I admired, such as Tavi Gevinson, speak affectionately about Taylor in the early days, and I think I just wanted to be a part of the club, so I buckled down and got to know the album inside and out. It was good! It was a good album. I liked it a lot. I even brought "I Know Places" into a sixth grade English lesson and guided my students through a close reading of the lyrics. But looking back, there are no particular songs to which I feel a connection. Aside from the fact that it was catchy pop music that made me feel good, I think I listened to and loved the album out of spite. Back in 2014, Taylor was widely ridiculed. Like all things that adolescent girls enjoyed, her music and her fan base were mocked mostly by men but sometimes by "cool girls" and women.

Now that I've mentioned sixth graders, I'm thinking about my time in the classroom, and I remember one year when I was given a particularly large amount of curricular leeway. (Incidentally, I held this position in 2014, when 1989 came out.) I decided to take advantage of the freedom I was given and dive into gender with the kids. We spent some time reading and discussing nonfiction articles on the subject, but before we even got into any of that, I introduced the topic by holding up two novels. One of them was this particular edition of Does My Head Look Big In This by Randa Abdel-Fattah, which has brightly colored polka dots and a girl's face on the cover. I don't remember the other book I held up, but it had darker colors, maybe a dragon, and some fire on it. It looked dangerous, adventurous. I asked the students who they thought would read each book. They said that girls would read Does My Head Look Big In This, and anyone could read the fire/dragon one. Then I asked them a different question: Who could be seen with each book? Their answer was similar but more rigid. The stakes were higher here, and there could be consequences. There was a level of danger for a boy to be seen with Does My Head Look Big In This. Maybe he would be made fun of, bullied, or harassed. All because of a book cover with polka dots on it. 

The same paradigm exists within pop music. If a boy or man was observed listening to Taylor Swift in 2014, he could have been made fun of, bullied, or harassed. Girls and women who loved Taylor Swift were maligned as well. There seemed to have been a widespread fear of Taylor Swift and what she represented. Not only was she a highly successful woman, but she was also traditionally feminine: she wore sparkles and glitter, felt a lot of feelings, and expressed them openly. Now that I have put it this way, Taylor Swift sounds absolutely terrifying. A massive threat to the status quo. I guess this was where my powerful spite came from. I wanted to support this woman who seemed to simultaneously encapsulate and subvert traditional femininity. I wanted to be on her team and to take down the haters. 

As a case study of self-compassion and shame resilience, Elana K. Arnold's 'What Girls Are Made Of' teaches us how to grow

The first time I read What Girls Are Made Of by Elana K. Arnold, I recommended it to anyone who would listen. I remember both thinking to myself and saying out loud, "This would have changed my life if I had read it in high school." I thought that every adolescent girl--nay, every English-speaking human over the age of 15--needed to read it. I even brought it up at an interview for a middle school teaching job. They asked me to share a book I enjoyed, so I mentioned What Girls Are Made Of, and I remember that my explanation of why I liked it so much involved the range of bodily functions that it depicts. I was like, "This novel is so gross! I love it so much!" A lot of blood comes out of vaginas in this novel, and it is glorious. As a grown adult woman who should be too smart for this, I am still ashamed of my bodily functions, so this representation is sorely needed. The other thing that I will always and forever love about What Girls Are Made Of is its unflinching representation of what it's like to grow up as a girl in a patriarchal society and to unpack a deeply rooted patriarchal history. Through protagonist Nina, Elana K. Arnold depicts the process of discovering your autonomy and giving yourself permission to consider what you want out of life rather than trying to please men and blindly adhering to societal norms. Nina accomplishes incredible growth over the course of the novel. It took me about ten years to achieve the level of growth that she manages over the course of the, I don't know, month of real-time plot in this book. Arnold does a brilliant job of highlighting the obstacles that stunted her development and that get in the way of her growth, but Nina manages to clear these hurdles. Even though her alcoholic mother tried to pass on her skewed worldview to Nina, and even though Nina is fighting against a patriarchal society that has been inhospitable to women for thousands of years, Nina develops a sense of self-worth and starts exercising it. In reflecting on how she managed to pull this off (and why the amount of growth we see in this novel took me ten years), I realized that there is a foundation for it even during her ugliest moments. Even at her ugliest, Nina is an honest and transparent narrator, and she tells her whole truth about her actions and motivations. This requires self-worth. Nina believes that her story is worth telling, and she is brave enough to reveal the most disturbing parts of it. She demonstrates self-compassion and shame resilience, and she continues to cultivate these skills over the course of the novel. They facilitate her growth, and she could not have done it without them.

Television's Alarmingly Normative Representation of Asexuality

I am not attracted to men, and whenever I say that, people assume that I am gay. I know that this will happen, but I don't intend to be deceptive. Rather, this is how I test the waters before coming out to someone in a more direct and specific way. I first get them accustomed to the fact that I am not straight, and I see how they react. And then I tell them that I'm not attracted to women either. I look them in the eye, or I look down at the table, and I tell them that I am asexual.

And I just replicated that very process with you. For me, what really works about it is that it situates my sexual orientation within a queer context. The asexual community has not been around for very long, and most people do not know that it exists, so placing my identity within a familiar context helps people to understand and accept it. Plus, I myself feel disconnected from the asexual community. The majority of my queer friends and role models reside elsewhere in the LGBTQIA+ alphabet, as do the characters in books and movies who I relate to and enjoy the most. 

Golden Boy by Abigail Tartellin, which has an intersex protagonist, absolutely destroyed me in the best way possible, and I paused my tv to scream when Shunsuke came out as bisexual on Terrace House. (This was mostly because Terrace House is among the straightest shows I have ever seen, and I was moved that they finally acknowledged the existence of queerness.) I have been deeply affected by iconic gay stories like Rubyfruit Jungle and Moonlight, but we asexuals do not have titles like these at this point. We have not yet made a dent on the culture. We are the new kids, and we need some time to develop our oeuvre.