Last Sunday’s American Music Awards dawned the return of Selena Gomez into the spotlight. After a few months off, Selena’s AMA red carpet appearance was her first since a low-profile stint in rehab. Gomez was reportedly struggling with issues of anxiety related to her performance schedule (among other things). As she dazzled in red, the world was excited to see music’s sweetheart back smiling in the public eye. Her signature grace and bubbly, natural beauty sparked an outpouring of support from social media. Both her fans and the general public took her appearance as a personal triumph for the star. It was when Selena won the award for Best Female Pop Artist, however, that she really got to make her statement of triumph.

Clutching her glass pyramid, Gomez spoke of both her struggle and her gratitude. Though she never coughed up the words “depression” or “anxiety”, she quickly became the star of the show as others recognized her as brave for admitting her personal issues. Other artists in attendance applauded and congratulated her. Selena became the #1 trending topic on Twitter within minutes. Her show-stopping moment trickled into Monday. Headline news on this mornings’ Today’s Talk read “Gomez Gets Real”. Eating my breakfast I watched a recap of Selena’s eyes welling as she spoke– “if you are broken, you do not have to stay broken”. And while those words were highlighted as powerful and brave, I had to question if what I was seeing was truly real.

Celebrities in rehab are by no means an unfamiliar conception to us. Beginning even in the golden age of Hollywood, starlets were whisked away between film schedules to recover from their private habits. By now the term “rockstar” immediately implicates rehab somewhere along the way. Overtime the entertainment industry has recycled celebrities with reputably washed up careers, creating a comeback narrative for so many. The most prominent example of a publicized mental break is none other than Britney Spears’ 5150 hold in 2007.

Suffering from bipolar disorder, Spears infamously had a media frenzy surrounding her breakdown. For about a year, every newsstand in America had multiple incredulous paparazzi photos of Brit running rampant, acting impulsively, crying and simply losing it. The 2000’s age of the celebutante ran a circle of unwell stars– Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, and most recently, Amanda Bynes all (very) publicly struggled with mental health concerns. Their stories were labeled American tragedies and the general public saw their struggles as the trashy irresponsibility of young money.

The general dismissal of Britney’s mental struggle was due to the compartmentalization of her image. At the time, people could easily dissociate themselves from those crazy people in Hollywood by shoving the stigma of mental illness onto the foreignness of fame. But a lot has changed since then. Within the last ten years, the understanding of mental health has progressed leaps and bounds. Slowly, our mental wellbeing has developed into an acceptable and valid piece to our person. The treatment of anxiety and depression is now looked at as a medical concern, fighting decades of the connotation of insanity.

When Selena Gomez announced she would be “taking time off” for her mental health, her sanity was never once questioned in the media. Previously diagnosed with Lupus, Selena has spoken openly about the toll her condition takes on both her body and her spirit. Entering rehab, fans rushed to Gomez’s digital side– even though this break meant a social media hiatus– to cheer her on through her dark time.

The American Music Awards extended a warm welcome to Selena fresh out of treatment. The coverage of the ceremony often landed on Selena, whose mere attendance symbolized a comeback of sorts. Her award acceptance speech was meant to communicate her struggle and her victory over mental illness. But as stunning as she looked, and as ernest as her words were, it is important to consider the speaker.

Of today’s celebrities, this storyline is reoccurring. Stars like Demi Lovato, Zayn Malik and even Beyoncé have all opened up about their strife with mental illness. Unlike the projected wild, party girl image of the last decade, these celebrities are notable role models. Selena Gomez in particular has built an image that is mostly wholesome, natural and sweet. And even though her message to us about mental health was just that, it missed some serious key points.

The average person’s fight against depression will not look like Selena’s fight.The first incongruence with the average lifestyle is the quality of treatment one can receive for mental illness. Selena took time off at a Christian-based rehab facility, complete with therapeutic activities like horseback riding. Her time for self-reflection paired with excellent doctors lends itself to a healthy recovery. However the convoluted healthcare system of today does not allow an extended medical leave for anyone. Those battling mental illness often work to provide for themselves and their families. An enriched leave for mental restoration is simply not possible for most everyone dealing with depression.

Secondly, Selena Gomez’s personal decision and willingness to enter treatment is not everyone’s experience. Often friends and families have to make painful decisions for their loved ones and their treatment options. I can’t belittle her decision to seek help because her struggle is just as valid as anyone else. But the graceful and quiet nature of her exit should not be the expectation. Often the choice to go to rehab is tumultuous, confusing and vulnerable– feelings not totally reflected in limited media stories maintaining the image of a beautiful starlet.

Monday’s account of Kanye West’s hospitalization shocked the nation. His recent erratic behavior reflected a slip in sanity for the superstar. The ordeal of his hospitalization (still unclear if it was voluntary or not) represents a more clunky and realistic peak of mental illness. After canceling 21 tour dates, West was reportedly suffering from sleep deprivation and had entered psychosis. Until Kanye and his family are able to speak their truth, speculation on his actual condition will continue.

West’s breakdown can apply as slightly more reflexive of the average person’s experience with a mental health battle. One affected by mental illness can sometimes lash out at those they love. Before his hospitalization, Kanye was booed on stage in Sacramento for expressing his distain for Beyoncé and Jay-Z. The way people act in the thick of their struggle is not their true selves. As Kanye’s experience lead him to lose multitudes of fans, the average person’s experience with mental illness entails a great deal of loss too.

It is also important to consider Kanye West’s status. As an outspoken black male, his current situation proves that mental illness shows no mercy. Visibility for mental illness in diverse cultures and communities is necessary and relevant. Despite our preconceived notions about mental health and weakness, masculinity does not protect anyone. Kanye’s infamous toughness and veracity did not shield him from a mental break. Because mental illness knows no boundaries, it can ultimately be understood and supported by all backgrounds– providing more strength to those battling.

Lastly, Selena’s glittering, movie-esque return to the outside world is truly something you will only see on television. Rehabilitation is a paramount tool in helping those fighting depression (or any other mental illness). Though its life-saving capabilities prove completely beneficial, one does not enter and exit rehab like an auto repair shop. After medical attention is provided and plans are enacted, the fight against mental illness is life-long. Surviving that battling does not result in a Cinderella story after a few weeks. In speaking to my friends and family members who have overcome depression and addiction,  they say their happiness and strength has built up over years (and years) of resilience. The goal was never to stay on top after being so low, but to continue experiencing the great peaks and valleys of this life, taking it one day at a time.

Selena’s 45-second acceptance speech offered a watered-down and family-friendly explanation of her win over struggle. Proclaiming she didn’t need validation anymore (from Instagram?), her statement was one representative of fortitude. Though I can easily pick apart her experience from the bits strewn together in the media, Selena Gomez deals with the pounding pressure of fame, pleasing the masses and performing– all of which we will never fully understand. Standpoint is key in regarding the issue of mental health. We struggle and fight in completely different ways, living our different lives. Often the experience is lonely, inconvenient and oppressing. But these few similarities can help bond together those with the same battle.

If there ever was a takeaway from Selena’s returning remarks, it is to listen and support those with mental health concerns. The pain of mental illness can weave its way into anyone’s life– beautiful pop stars, hip-hop moguls and the rest of us. As Selena encouraged, caring for others bridges these differences and helps, if only little, heal.

Returning to my second year at university has welcomed back a year’s worth of traditions. Communal living, shower shoes, deliciously starchy dining hall meals. After living at a quiet house all summer, the youthful atmosphere feels equally right and familiar. Being surrounded by students like myself in age makes campus feel current. Ideas, trends and social constructions are so very new and next. Immediately we are able to identify what is “big” or defining in our college demographic. So, if you’re a fellow student, naturally Snapchat appears in your daily vocabulary.

Saturday and Sunday mornings I roll over in bed to check the time and scroll through social media on my iPhone. I open Snapchat to view 18 consecutive Snapchat stories of friends (but mostly acquaintances) in an unidentifiable basement, maybe laser lights blinking in the background. They’re lipping to some Drake and a red solo cup usually wiggles into frame. You know exactly the story I’m talking about. These videos are unexplainable and ridiculous. And for this reason they are deeply connected to teens and young adults.

Snapchat has garnered a monstrous user audience in the past year alone. As the social media platform continues to grow, its popularity has manufactured its own etiquette and guidelines. Snapchat has taken on a life of its own at this point, extending beyond just an application on one’s smartphone. We are living in a Snapchat culture.

My first introduction to Snapchat was sometime in 2012 at my local Walmart. My friend at the time, who was one of a dozen students at my school who used the iPhone 4 (OMG), was letting me gawk at the seemingly-perfect iOS setup. I saw an app with a cartoon ghost on it and asked what it was.

“Oh it’s Snapchat. You send a photo to a friend and it disappears in 10 seconds— watch!”

She took a photo and sent it away to one of her TWO Snapchat friends. Immediately, she received a blurry selfie with the caption “Hi!”. As quickly as I glanced at it, she vanished.

“But why would you want to send a photo and not keep it?” I asked. The answer would come to me years later after some serious forethought about technology, the media and youth culture.

The context of this first introduction is key. In 2012, people were graduating from Facebook to something more quippy and instant: Twitter. The social relevance of a hashtag infiltrated the media. I remember tweeting at your crush being the thing to do as a freshman. Before long, the use of Instagram overshadowed other social networks. Simple, fun and more aesthetically pleasing than Twitter, Instagram gave us all the perfect peek into the lives of those we followed. Though Instagram still held a chair at the round table of social media, 2015 catapulted Snapchat to the forefront. Most instant, most raw and most communicative, Snapchat gave us a brilliant formula that people between the ages of 14 and 24 gobbled up.

The basis of snapchat is picture messaging— an action one is perfectly capable of doing through iMessage. Caption characters are limited to two lines and the photo may only last up to 10 seconds and as little as 1. When it’s laid out for you in these terms, what makes Snapchatting so appealing? In a word: everything. The fleeting nature of sending snaps is exciting to those who want to send racy photos or messages they were not brave enough to look at in their “sent” column. The symbolic poof of auto-erasing photos speaks to the attention span online media has given us. Instead of scrolling endlessly, it is simply there and then it is not. Elementary, care-free and damn easy.

The creation of the Snapchat story was what really lit the application on fire. While the construction of mysterious photo-messaging was enticing to users, social sites like Twitter and Instagram allowed users to achieve a persona by posting to the masses. But the genius invention of a widely-viewable string of videos with your name above it quickly put the aforementioned to shame. The Snapchat story is the personal movie to your life. The idea of posting photos and videos was nothing new by this point, but the momentary spirit of Snapchat called for different types of media content.

For example, your friend’s personal photos on their Facebook or Instagram are usually guarded by a sense of falsehood. Who knows how many tries it took to get the perfect angle on your hiking trip, or if Becky was blinking in your group photo. The appeal of Snapchat is that it is as candid as it gets. Consequently postings are often nonsensical, unpolished and unrehearsed. From a social standpoint, Snapchat has become the paramount device for finding out the “real” life of a friend or acquaintance. A funny tweet may take a few drafts to perfect, but Snapchat is able to capture that which you find hilarious or embarrassing as it happens.

Celebrity Snapchat accounts have gained booming popularity with the general public as well. Attesting to the concept of peeking into another’s life, many find Snapchat as the link to their favorite star. Our cultural fascination with celebrity leads us to Snapchat, where we can find out what exactly Kylie Jenner puts on her ramen noodles. In no way is this groundbreaking, but Snapchat has turned news media on its head, as the rich and famous snatch up the job of the paparazzi. Similarly, the average person is more capable than ever of capturing an event and gaining traction before the media does.

The magnetization of Snapchat has pushed boundaries for other social media sites. Instagram recently added a nearly identical “story” feature and live-stream apps like Periscope are highly downloaded. This technological era is fully self-aware in this aspect. Snapchat does not coerce users, it simply allows them to put a hand in one of the bigger cultural constructions of the decade. It should be mentioned that just because a concept or item is culturally relevant, it does not give it a culture of its own. As silly as it sounds, the facial-recognition filters of Snapchat have created deep social meaning. How else could puppy ears turn into a branding of appearance and sexuality? What I have personally witnessed since the birth of Snapchat is a social movement that has molded the minds of young people. Snapchat has silently created its own code of usage, along with universal understandings about how the app can change the public’s perception of you.

When we were younger and cyber-bullying had just made its debut, guidance counselors taught us about keyboard courage. We learned that the disconnect of face-to-face communication allowed bullies to type their insults with a sense of protection. Fast-forward to now, where keyboard courage extends to the lenses of Snapchat. Though I have never personally seen anyone be verbally bullied on Snapchat, the false sense of security is embedded within the culture of the app. People, particularly young people, understand that their image on Snapchat reflect the fun or even ballsy things they do. The first time I had ever seen anyone at school do cocaine was on a Snapchat story. This person willingly posted her drug usage for seven seconds and immediately gave all her followers a million different impressions of her.

Perhaps not in this extreme, but all young Snapchat users have the availability of capturing wild moments in the back of their mind. That’s why snapping at parties or nights out is almost crucial in a millennial’s life. In some circles, dimly lit front camera videos at bars would be distasteful or pointless. But under the surface, Snapchat has built pressure upon our online reputation. By allowing us to capture life as we know it instantly, Snapchat users feel they must show off the fun they’re having, the friends they’re making or the mischief they are involved in. In Snapchat culture, we have reached an understanding that’s just what you do.

My aunt was recently encouraged to create a Snapchat account by a coworker. We were chatting about it and she expressed that she just didn’t “get it”. And honestly, why would she? The target audience Snapchat monetizes off of consists of young people concerned with their online presence. From the perspective of someone who has lived through their youth without notions of screenshots, double-taps or viewership, what difference does Snapchat make in their life? To my generation however, we are more aware of our social media lives than ever.

This idea of Snapchat culture is not meant to deter users. After all, Snapchat is meant to innovate your messaging experience. I don’t know anyone who isn’t excited to receive a snap from someone. I believe the analysis of Snapchat culture broadens our understanding of communication in 2016. I’ve seen people post on their stories to get back at exes or to misdirect focus and illude that they are having a good time. The reality Snapchat has created scratches the surface of how we as young people want to be well liked, cool and even a little bit famous. In a way, Snapchat caters to the irreverence of a generation of youth. When your parents were young the movement was Rock n Roll. As we search for ourselves in young adulthood, the movement is in ten seconds or less.

I was so excited to kick off the month with my article 13 Feminist Horror Flicks To Watch This October, certain I had planted a seed of femi-wisdom into the Halloween season. That excitement remained until a dear friend of mine politely inquired why my list was so white. To my own disbelief, I scrolled through my work to realize the entirety of my list included films with white female protagonists. She asked me if this was a lapse in my personal judgement or a failure of the genre as a whole.

I would have to say both.

People of color have forever been underrepresented in American media. White protagonists’ prioritization in the movie market certainly explains their prominence in my recent memory. Just because representation is sparing, I should not have put it past myself to do the extra digging. In fact, by creating this new list I reminded myself of some favorites from the past and present; ones I never acknowledged for being diverse.

The identity politics of the horror genre are a vast and complicated component of the industry’s structure. A component that I will not be able to address adequately or fully in this piece. My objective with 13 Feminist Horror Flicks To Watch This October was to shed light on horror films that highlighted the female experience. Here, I give you: 10 more diverse feminist horror films that address the female experience in a more intersectional way. 

1. The Craft (1996)

Think Mean Girls with spells and incantations— The Craft is, in every sense, the perfect movie. Directed by Andrew Fleming, this film follows four high school girls who are navigating their own coven. Each young witch struggles with her own female teen hardship, from body image to rumors and even mental health. Rachel True’s character, Rochelle, has a distinct racially-charged conflict with the blonde school bully. True has since spoken about the her role in The Craft, explaining once she was cast, major changes were made to the script to involve an explicit struggle with racial prejudice. Though Rochelle was not the protagonist, The Craft portrays a strong intersectional group of young women bonded by friendship (before they start hexing one another).

2. The People Under The Stairs (1991)

The People Under The Stairs was Wes Craven’s not-so-subtle critique on American socio-economic structure. Packed with his true-to-form punching horror bits, Craven crafted this film with enough dark humor to represent a bigger picture. The film follows young and curious “Fool” out of his home in a Los Angeles ghetto and into the his landlord’s affluent residence. There, Fool uncovers that the wealthy, white landlord is hoarding dozens of people, similar to Fool’s circumstance, in the basement. The People Under The Stairs will draw you in with gore and laughs, but keep you for the metaphors involving social and racial exploitation.

3. Audition (1999)

Asian horror is instrumental in the horror genre. Horror movies that come from the East heavily inspire the stories and filmmaking style present in domestic theaters. That being said, Takashi Miike’s Audition is widely regarded as one of the most influential and all-around best Japanese horror films. Widower Aoyama devises an innocent plan to hold an audition in hopes to enter the dating world again. Aoyama falls for sweet Asami in the process, and he pursues a relationship with her. His efforts result in a turn of events that are nothing short of shocking, grotesque and torturous. To the viewer’s disbelief, this terror is driven by a sick, sociopathic petite female. The impact of Audition can be seen in films like Hard Candy and Hostel.

4. Vampire in Brooklyn (1995)

Another one of Wes Craven’s lighter works. Vampire in Brooklyn is probably the lowest-rated film to come out of the Craven-factory, but to its credit, is rich in visual design and earnest in comic effort. And, above all else, this is an all-black horror comedy. Vampire Maximillian, portrayed by Eddie Murphy, romantically pursues Angela Bassett’s character Rita in the heart of Brooklyn. While this film wades in corny territory— Norbit-style Murphy transformations included— Vampire in Brooklyn grants its female character distinction. Rita is a New York detective with motive, background, character development and a voice. Vampire in Brooklyn is the spooky fun of Dark Shadows with the black comedic influence of films like Friday (1995) and Boomerang (1992).

5. The Uninvited (2009)

Directed by Thomas and Charles Guard, The Uninvited was a sleepover favorite when I was in the seventh grade. This psychological horror follows Anna, portrayed by doe-eyed Emily Browning, who is sent to a mental institution following tragic events in her family. Upon her return from the treatment, she remembers the past much differently than it actually happened. The Uninvited is inspired by the South Korean film A Tale of Two Sisters (2003), which expands upon elements of Janghwa Hongryeon jeon, a popular South Korean folk tale. The Guard brothers were absolute in their respect for the original K-horror, wanting to pay homage to the culture of the story rather than ignore its influence. The result is an Americanization of equal story depth; something Western crossovers have not always been able to do in borrowing from Eastern horror. The Uninvited unwinds Anna’s haunting psychosis to Shyamalan-ian twist ending, incorporating themes of sisterhood and an entirely female 1st person narrative.

6. Scream 2 (1997)

The trend continues. As I stated in the original article: it’s not a recommendation list without Wes Craven’s Scream. Scream 2 was the bigger, badder second installment in the franchise that fulfilled promises of higher stakes and a larger body count. Scream was beloved for its self-awareness and Craven did well to expand upon its satirical vibe with the same murder-mystery fun in the sequel. As Sidney Prescott enters college, Craven introduces a handful of characters of color, including Sidney’s best friend Hallie, portrayed by Elise Neal. Neal’s character is unfortunately secondary to Neve Campbell and Courtney Cox, but black visibility in Scream 2 is existent. Jada Pinkett cameos to reprise Drew Barrymore’s role as the film’s scream queen opener. Pinkett and Omar Epps portray a couple massacred by Ghostface, kicking off Scream 2 with inclusive casting and a POC narrative. Their opening sequence gives the iconic original a run for its money. Matter’fact, here’s Pinkett’s glorious death scene:

7. Gothika (2003)

Gothika is part crime drama, part physiological/paranormal horror. Halle Berry leads Gothika as psychiatrist Miranda Grey, who, after a ghostly turn of events, kills her husband and ends up behind the same bars as her patients. The film takes on elements of murder mystery under horror-themed pretenses of possession and channeled spirits. Directed by Mathieu Kassovitz, this film holds the perspective of the black female lead throughout. Gothika juggles themes of madness, revenge and even rape almost entirely at the hands of the über-talented Halle Berry.

8. Somos lo que hey / We Are What We Are (2010) + (2013)

Latin demographics account for as much as 20% of box office sales— but Latin representation in films is lacking. Several horror films are set in Latin America, premising ancient indigenous curses or cannibalistic civilizations. Despite their settings, these films mainly follow white protagonists and don’t exactly celebrate Latin culture (The Ruins (2008); The Green Inferno (2013)). There is a horror market specific to Latin countries whose films have yet to cross over into the domestic mainstream, but certainly deserve recognition for their inventive cinematography and filmmaking.

Mexican director Jorge Michel Grau has a catalogue of Hispanic horror films that are cultural and all-around fantastic. His work Somos lo que hey chronicles a family of cannibals and their pursuit of a steady food source in the poverty of Mexico City. Solos lo que hey discusses family dynamic and struggle, as well as political oppression.

The film got the American remake treatment in 2013 by director Jim Mickle. We Are What We Are follows another cannibalistic family, but is focused heavily on two daughter’s struggle against their father. I would say the imagery in Grau’s piece is entirely more visceral; an unsettling horror that is both sharp and smart. We Are What We Are is not as successful, but does rework the original story with a young female perspective.

Which is better? Watch both films to find out 😎

9. The Transfiguration (2016)

The Transfiguration is the indie horror drama you never knew you needed to watch. The film, written and directed by Michael O’Shea, follows young black male Milo on a bloodsucking coming of age— he believes he is a vampire. When Milo meets Sophie, a young girl struggling with her own identity, Milo begins to spiral. The Transfiguration echoes dialogue about boyhood, obsession and— because of the casting— racial stereotypes. It puts into perspective moral depravation versus what may truly flatten, terrorize and disturb humanity. This inclusive horror is sure to do all three to audiences.

10. Get Out (2017)

Get Out— the critical darling that needs no introduction. The film written and directed by Jordan Peele essentially won 2017; it managed to boom at the box office with racial themes despite a harsh political climate surrounding the release. Critical praise aside, Get Out admittedly got everything right— the balance between dark comedy, psychological thriller and horror. What audiences should credit Get Out the most is it’s initiation of dialogue. Do white women prey on black men? Are black people, as a whole, fetishized and misunderstood by priveleged communities?  I love Get Out for its inventive story and delivery by its talented cast; I appreciate Get Out for its critique on society as we know it.

I’m unashamed. I’m not embarrassed. I’m even proud. I love Halloween.

For many, October is a month-long celebration of all things oogey and boogey. Culturally, Halloween allows us to enjoy the subversive, spooky side of life without the expectations of normalcy we experience the other 364 days. What other time is Frankenstein slapped on Kit-Kat bars? Or tombstones and decorative ghosts on sale next to housewares at Target? Today, Halloween contends with major holidays like Christmas commercially. Extending beyond market value, some would say Halloween possesses an enchanting quality similar to the Christmas spirit. Churning together the best of season, curiosity, and the paranormal, Halloween satisfies our need to briefly indulge in the dark.

More than any other group, youth culture seems to revel in Halloween with a particular exuberance. When you think about it, Halloween and youth culture share the same irreverence. Witchcraft, devil worship, skimpy costumes—it’s all the things your parents worry the kids are doing these days. The livelihood of the holiday draws in youth culture with the promise of a night where anything can happen. Unlike New Year’s Eve or Christmas however, Halloween throws in the seduction of terror.

The delight in fear is widely accepted during the Halloween season. Haunted hayrides, jump-scare walk-throughs, even Ouija boards excite our unspoken hunger to be thrilled by the abnormal. It may not be apparent throughout the other seasons, but autumn’s chill in the air reveals our hinting urge for something bewitching.

Being spooked for fun is certainly not a construction specific to millennials. Horror entertainment has found deep roots in youth culture overtime. Horror films, namely, reflect a youth-centric audience. The teen-slasher genre burst onto the scene in the late 1970’s, exploded in the 80’s and trickled into the early 90’s. These films capitalized off the terrorization of the average, unassuming, all-American teen. Michael Meyers, Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees all attacked innocent groups of friends at play—on weekend getaways, when parents weren’t home; just when they thought they were safe. Watching their normalcy being taken advantage of was what made young audiences so terrified of this new horror genre. Horror films had a niche prior to this new subgenre, but like never before, a brand of film monetized off of the entire teen demographic and quickly became representative of a new culture.

Make no mistake, movies like Halloween and Friday the 13^th remain classics in horror-lover circles. Their role in the evolution of horror films is pivotal, arguably bringing horror one step further into the mainstream. But their legacy is merely a precedent to where the bar is set presently. As we entered the new millennium, a certain self-awareness sprouted in youth culture along the way. Blame it on the new immediacy of technology or the nuances of egoism in our generation—young viewers wanted more. Consequently, the teen genre dissolved in mid-2000’s and the young demographic began to gravitate toward more mature conventions of horror.

The empowerment of adult-themed entertainment pushed teens of the new generation to demand horror more believable and devious. The boom of hand-held and “found” footage horror films in the 2000’s provided audiences with a sense of hyper-reality, elevating fear to a more tangible level. Simultaneously, the rise of gore in mainstream horror films became paramount with films like James Wan’s Saw (2004) and Eli Roth’s Hostel (2005). The millennial audience has graduated from gross-out to the grotesque. We no longer want to be terrified, we wish to be petrified.

Because of its counter-cultural appeal, the horror genre has steadily developed a social commentary. Overtime, horror box-office hits have snuck in critiques of human nature, religion and overall cultural values. Obviously, those completely opposed to scary movies are not well-versed in the significance of the genre. But its development overtime has garnered a specific weight in the world of film. Movies are often learning tools, reflexive of how people think and feel. The horror genre has provided us with an avenue to a different excitement; to experiment with fear in a controlled environment.

The joy of both horror films and Halloween celebrations are that they come to an end when we allow it. After the credits roll and all the candy has been handed out, we can return to the safety of our normal world. That’s why Halloween is a holiday—because any day after that is perfectly un-scary. However, our new ability to turn on and off our sensor to fear extends beyond entertainment.

It seems as though our delight in horror films bleeds into a more blurred, desensitized view of the much darker horrors in the real world. Daily news reports of mass shootings and racial-driven murders appear on newsreels with a staggering frequency. These stories are jarring upon receiving them, but immediately we make them disappear by scrolling up or changing the channel. Our fleeting regard for what should deeply affect us is an attribute of the false invincibility we create for ourselves. Consider the majority’s attitude toward the 2016 presidential election. The series of twisted events in both campaigns, albeit confusing, pushes most people to a humorous or even apathetic response. For the most part, the public doesn’t want to swallow the actuality of the election. Though fear-mongering is a popular tactic between both presidential candidates, our personal fears often direct us to our passions. Particularly with young adults, false bravery lies to us more than fear does. Accepting the truly scary elements of life give us a well-rounded perception of reality. This is somethings our generation struggles with.

The most pertinent example I can relate to our desensitization of fear is the recent Kim Kardashian West robbery scandal. In the middle of the night, a group of thieves broke into Kim’s hotel room in Paris. Left bound by zip-ties in a cold marble bathtub, Kim thought only of her children as she watched the robbers turn over the room and steal, among several other priceless pieces of jewelry, her prized Lorraine Schwartz engagement ring. The image of this event gives me chills. West recounts not understanding the robbers as they were shouting violently in French. She said she feared they were going to rape her.

To think, the most beautiful woman in the world at the mercy of greedy jewel thieves. Kim’s reluctance to return to the social media spotlight—the very position that allows her family to live so comfortably– shows the unshakeable trauma of this occurrence. It was for this reason I was shocked to happen across this Halloween costume.

The image above, to me, is almost pornographic in its mockery. The visual references perfectly trivialize what might be the most disturbing and painful moment in a person’s life. Perhaps the far removal of Kim’s fame from the average life of the creator is what justified he or she to come up with the concept. Civilian’s disrespect for the celebrity is for another time— the main focus here is referring to a truly terrifying event in jest. This Halloween costume is symbolic of intrusion and extreme evasion of one’s privacy. Instead of receiving this message appropriately, we interpret it as clever and fun. The fear has been stripped out of the event and replaced with crude shock value. Desensitized to our own fear, we become insensitive to others’.

The obstacle now is to establish a comfortable relationship with fear. In watching films like Insidious or The Conjuring, we let terror wash over us briefly. The excitement of fear, as we have learned, proves to be universal and marketable. While this bump-in-the-night kind of fear is conditional and often harmless, desensitizing ourselves to all kinds of fear is ultimately dangerous. In many ways we blindly accept that which is violent or perverse by not standing up to the issue. As images in video games, social media and film whizz past our eyes for hours at a time, the shocking slowly becomes the mundane. I suspect that as the lines of reality and fantasy bleed together, making a mental disconnect becomes much more difficult.

All of this is not to say millennials are morally or emotionally damaged. In fact, the fearlessness of this generation has pushed us to use our voice for political and social change in many positive ways. Young people have always been reputably cocky, no matter the generation. The false sense of immortality youth culture has held onto pushes young people to, well, be young. Overcoming fears about the real world is essentially what growing up entails. Perhaps, with years of experience peeking through our fingers to watch horror films, we build up this desensitization as a coping mechanism for adulthood.

The recent and mysterious clown sightings across America have shaken nightly news viewers for about a month. The creepy and unexplainable clown figures pose as a threat to the average pedestrian. As many viral videos illustrate, people feel very strongly that these pranksters must be stopped. The video of the Penn State “clown riot” captures hundreds of young people stampeding to hunt down the suspect. Nothing applies more to my previous assertions than this unexpected, wacky cultural event. After word of a clown sighting on my small college campus got out, chaos ensued. Out my window, I watched groups of fraternity brothers race up the street with golf clubs in toe. We are conditioned all our life to compartmentalize the monsters in film to their fictional being. Young people, in their armor of promise and vitality, see a monster come into fruition and feel that they can conquer it the way their fears have been conquered. The fear we do not feel may not be desensitization, rather the fear we do feel is repurposed into drive. Maybe the hundreds running after clowns have no intention of unmasking them. Living out fear could possibly be more rewarding than being a hero.

The following article contains It (2017) spoilers.

I felt like I waited my whole life to see Andrés Muschetti’s 2017 adaption of Stephen King’s legendary It. When the trailer surfaced earlier in the year, the anticipation to relive this childhood nightmare burned inside of me until I sat in the theater Saturday night. Finally, finally this integral part of my cinematic journey was getting the official Hollywood treatment. Seeing It (2017) was more than a fall blockbuster experience, it marked a chapter in my life. But more on that later.

After reigning in my excitement long enough to sit in the theater for 2 hours, I can finally articulate my thoughts on It (2017). I had high expectations for this film; some of them were met and some were not. Being a fan of the story, my connection to this film both worked in its favor and against it. Muschetti really needed to hit the nail on the head with It (2017) for me to be fully satisfied. And, regrettably, not everything was perfect. I intend for this review to be pretty scrutinizing– because the mistakes held back this ridiculously good film from being all-out excellent. Different elements of It (2017) were too little, too much– but some were just right.

The Too Little 

This adaption of It (2017) was promised to be a more true-to-novel retelling; one that brought the grotesque elements of King’s work– the ones that were tip-toed around in the ABC miniseries–to the big screen. I will say that the gore aspect of the film was delicious– there was violence that would make King proud. But more crucial aspects of the book were left out to the film’s disadvantage: characterizations of the children were weak or just plain wrong.

Perhaps the most glaring characterization issue of the film was the consistency issues of Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom. Their roles in the Loser’s club are, respectively, the black outsider and overweight new kid. In the original story, Ben is the bookworm of the bunch. Through the days he spends at the library, he learns useful information about building dams and defeating monsters. Mike is the historian of the group. His family provides him with horror stories of Derry’s past. He is invaluable in the discovery of Pennywise’s backstory.

The 2017 adaptation affords Ben the roles of bookworm and historian. The only benefit Mike brings to the group is the use of his uncle’s euthanizing gun. He is essentially a supporting character. The only explanation for this near character erasure can be writer’s plans for Chapter II, where Ben and Mike’s roles as adults may change. Still, the shove of the film’s only black character to the background was obvious and unfortunate. Mike was supposed to offer the Losers Club with the overlooked experience of black people in Derry, but he– and the issue of race– were silenced.

Stephen King’s original It carried no semblance of political correctness. Along with racism, the characters faced homophobia, misogyny, anti-semitism, abuse, violence and sexual perversion. Other than one use of the word “faggot” and a few innuendos, the supposed tortuous lives of Loser’s Club were severely lacking. Simply put, the children were not bullied enough. The shocking scene in which bully Henry Bowers carves an H into Ben Hanscom’s belly should have only been a glimpse at how miserable being a Loser was.

Presently, I can see the ethical hurdles of putting a black child actor in a racially violent scene, or featuring an incestuous rape sequence between Beverly and her father. In order to air on primetime, the ABC miniseries essentially stripped It of its sick and kinky details. So comparatively, It (2017) was able to ‘go there’ with its R-rating. Call me a sadist, but there was still room for suffering. Bill Denbrough’s speech was supposed to be so impaired he cowered at the thought of talking aloud. Stanley Uris should have been mortified about his Jewish identity in the wake of bullies. Overall, Derry wasn’t developed as the American cesspool it was intended to be. In the 2017 adaption, the Losers weren’t that big of losers.

Perhaps I should have known better than to expect a shot-for-shot adaption of King’s cruel and often debauched original novel, but I still anticipated character development that dove further into the hardships of their respective childhoods. Instead, It (2017) presented us with characters that had mass audience appeal.

The Too Much

Die-hard fans aside, the release of It (2017) had a lot riding on it from a Hollywood standpoint. The premiere trailer absolutely crushed viewing records and hype for the film was (understandably) astronomical. It (2017) needed to be not only a critical success, but a commercial one as well. The perfect balance of true-to-King horror and Halloween blockbuster needed to be struck in order for It (2017) to be a winner.

So, without subtracting the horror elements of the film, mass audience appeal had to be achieved through humor. And I must say– It (2017) is a genuinely funny film at moments. I’ll spare you the functionality of comic relief in the horror genre, but the tender moments were sweet, the scary moments were petrifying and the comedic moments were funny– almost too funny.

I was thrilled when Finn Wolfhard of Stranger Things was announced as part of the It (2017) cast. He was to reprise Seth Green’s role of Richie Tozier, the wise-crack of the Losers. He was foul-mouthed and snarky– just like King had built the character. I admit Wolfhard– and other Losers– had me laughing aloud in some scenes, but I noticed some comedy in the film warranted cheap laughter. Believe me, I’ll be the first to laugh at a tasteless dick joke. And I’m fully aware that the immature humor in the film echoed the innocence of the characters. Rather, I felt that jokes were inappropriately placed throughout; a fault of the writers’ and not the actors.

The paramount example of this is the final battle scene between the Losers and Pennywise. After his final breath, Pennywise falls down the well to what the Losers believe to be his death. A sigh of relief circulates through both the children and the audience. Richie then jests he “knows what he’s going to write for his summer essay”. While I heard titters through the audience, I thought to myself, seriously? The deliberate choice to interject unsophisticated humor into moments of intensity rubbed me the wrong way. It is better than that.

In another effort to succeed in the mainstream, It (2017) showed an unexpected amount of CGI– particularly in its horror sequences. Bill Skarsgård delivered a knockout performance as Pennywise; one that gave Tim Curry a run for his money. So much incredible work went into the costume, makeup and character design of the 2017 Pennywise that the CGI additions seemed more like distractions. Skarsgård was so meticulous in his Pennywise portrayal that I trust his lanky, drooly, sinister presence alone would produce the same scares. I can only speculate that major CGI sequences were used as bait in domestic and international box offices.

It’s no secret that these Hollywood tactics worked in the filmmakers’ favor. It (2017) is set to be the most commercially successful movie in the horror genre ever. Films do not reach that status by being niche or experimental. In order for this ambitious project to win, politics of Hollywood filmmaking need to be sprinkled throughout.

And I can be okay with that.

The Just Right

The morning before I went to see the film, I was driving home after dropping off my boyfriend. Main street was particularly quiet and the air crisped with the beginnings of autumn. It was early and I hadn’t had coffee yet, so naturally, bewilderment set in when I saw a red orb bobbing from the storm drain.

The red-balloon prank became a free and silly marketing strategy for the It (2017) movie. I wasn’t particularly scared when I saw the balloon because I was well aware of the pop culture reference. As I drove past, though, I laughed to myself, almost with sorrow. The red balloon felt like a bittersweet reminder. Then I understood.

Without knowing it, It has been a major part of my life. I still remember the rainy day my friends brought over the It (1990) VHS tapes. At the fragile age of six I screamed at the top of my lungs and hid under my bed at the site of Pennywise. I was petrified of the shower drain for years. After she read the novel years before, my mother’s copy of It sat menacingly on the bookcase at my grandparents’ house. Past the age I learned to read, my feeble curiosity lead me to sneak in pages at a time; learning new dirty words of the Stephen King persuasion and shivering at the horrific descriptions of Pennywise.

I grew older and conquered my fear of clowns, monsters and killers. I began to love horror movies and embrace all the grotesque elements of film a young lady shouldn’t. I roamed my town with my best friends and grew up with them. I got my heart broken and had to face terrifying realities when I was all too young. I’ve since entered adulthood and carried those fond, painful, beautiful memories with me along the way.

Now that It is finally being remade for my generation, I realize what this story is all about. It didn’t matter that It (2017) wasn’t completely perfect or an exact adaptation of the novel. It (2017) managed to emulate that unparalleled nostalgia from my childhood– a priceless reaction I have not experienced from a film in years. This movie was able to do so with breathtaking performances from child actors and my same hunger for real, true horror.

If you haven’t seen It (2017) yet, run, don’t walk to the next showing– because aside from the screams and laughs I shared with friends in the theater, the film’s deeper message will undoubtedly connect with anyone. Exactly 27 years after it’s original release, It is back– and I’ve fallen in love. When I saw that red balloon, I instantly would have given anything to be 13 again with my own band of losers. I believe no one is as brave as they are when they are young.

🎈

Picture an elementary-level drawing of a tornado. Anyone with a pen could accurately begin with wide loops or squiggles at the top, decreasing in size until it reaches a slim base. If you’ve ever witnessed tornado footage, or perhaps the way the toilet flushes, you can understand a spiral continuously winds until it reaches a coney tip. In this respect, we often use the word “spiral” as a descriptor– our teenage son is spiraling out of control; the company is on a downward spiral– that indicates rapid deterioration of some sort that results in a singular poor outcome.

Some may say, after watching coverage of the events in Charlottesville, that our nation is spiraling out of control. Occurrences of violence, hatred and civil unrest seem to replicate that corkscrew model of winding chaos. The protests in Charlottesville have weighed on me like a piggy back ride. The images and stories coming from Virginia are no longer inconveniences I have to scroll through online, or polite political conversations I can abnegate. This feels so much more malignant.

I, and so many others, ask why to what we already know the answer to. Ideology that has been muffled and repressed for our comfort is now seeping through the foundation. Hatred of America’s progression bubbled behind closed doors and now we are witnessing its explosive overflow. It’s ugly, it’s unbearable and it’s supremacist.

The Charlottesville protests are shocking and sensational because we comfortably thought this would not happen again. America in 2017 has come so far, has it not? Racial tensions rekindled fervor in recent years, with events of police brutality in the black community. But outside of that dialogue and media coverage, the people in our neighborhoods were kind to us; we went about our days in a safety net of ingenuous trust in our peers. Sure, the 2016 presidential election got ugly, but our grade school understanding of right and wrong should keep us from regressing as a society. Civil rights, diversity, equality for all — who would possibly challenge these American principles?

Eight months into 2017, the who stepped forward with tiki torches. They carried Nazi and Confederate flags and KKK representation. These white individuals were sputtering and seething; chanting racial slurs, anti-semitic slurs, homophobic slurs. Identifiers like Neo-Nazis, white nationalists and the Alt-Right have been in circulation since the event. Call them what you will, but seriously… just… what the fuck? Principles that I understood from youth as bigoted, unspeakable evil were being celebrated by these proud protestors. I had difficulty wrapping my mind around it. That was, until I considered our spiral, and it all wasn’t so far fetched anymore.

I had the pleasure of taking a Media Effects course this past semester, in which we investigated the question: do media affect people? This class warmed my little media-loving heart with weekly studies of different mediums and their connection to human behavior. Our lecture on news media stood out as particularly relevant. The discussion was centered around partisanship and how bias in media formulates. My professor then presented the class with the spiral model, a visual representation of extremism. And suddenly it all made sense.

The Obama administration did not please everyone. Progressing into the 2010’s, America crested a turning point in social change– one that was distinctly liberal. And many people were angry. Thinking back on Obama’s presidency, I can identify the progression of his politics into the mainstream. From 2008-2016, America was introduced to new ideas– and laws– about sexual orientation, women’s rights, health care, race, social programs and transgenderism. While major media networks upheld Obama’s progressivism as positive,  many white middle-Americans became frustrated.

White citizens who worked middle-class jobs– people who benefitted under, say, the Reagan administration– would come home at the end of their work days, turn on the evening news and instantly get annoyed. How could there possibly be oppression in America? I work with my hands all day! These individuals would see a glittering standard attached to Obama’s reputation, and they were getting fed up.

That’s essentially why Trump gained the fervent supporters he did. White people, burned by the shift of Obama’s presidency, were desperate to find a candidate that represented them. They were done with the niceties, the political-correctness, the constant squawking of groups like Black Lives Matter. What about us? These people wanted their American dream country back.

Here’s where Fox News comes in. With this planted seed of political unrest, self-identifying Republicans turned to media like Fox News; media that reported in tandem with what they were thinking. Backing up a little, Fox has always been the right-angle news outlet; the response to left-angle news like CNN or MSNBC.

But creeping out of the Obama presidency, Fox saw an opportunity to flourish. Because their audience was fed up, angry, a little over the top, Fox News decided to give them programming that was just that. At long last, viewers were exposed to anchors who were explosive and passionate in their same disagreement with President Obama. And thus begins the spiral. That anger was picked up by the swift wind of partisan news into the vortex. Concrete political views became reiterated by viewership and viewership fueled even more concrete political views.

Television networks like The Blaze gained traction with the same strategy of appeal. In this recent election cycle, conservative media was marketed vehemently as the truth– what they don’t want us to say. These media started offering viewers hall passes for their volatile feelings; suddenly Tomi Lahren was reading their minds about Colin Kaepernick’s controversial protests and Sean Hannity was hitting the nail on the head about illegal immigration. Facebook and Twitter shares rack up, and people from all corners of the USA came forward with the same ill will toward liberal culture. Little by little, frustration morphed into hatred. Further and further the extremist media impressed upon its viewers that the millennial snowflakes were ruining the country, the protesting blacks were thugs and action needed to be taken.

And suddenly, Nazi ideology didn’t seem so out of reach. Seemingly normal Americans found voices in white nationalist groups. Many became convinced siding with the KKK was a logical and ethical stance against what they understood to be the American liberal regime. That’s why many faces seen in Charlottesville were young white males with clean haircuts and business casual attire. Standing alongside the individuals in white hoods, people that work where we work, live where we live, stood proudly to represent the ethnic “cleansing” of America.

In my Media Effects course, we learned that news media, no matter how factual in nature, has no choice but to be entertaining. Televised content will forever have entertainment value, and as much as we neglect the idea, news networks have ratings to improve. I’m sure anyone with family members over the age of 50 has sat through an evening of the O’Reily Factor at least once– if you pay attention to the basic visuals of the network, it’s almost childlike in color scheme and animation. Red and blue scream at you in ways that remind me of a video game. What should be very basic broadcasting has become visually and contextually sensational. These type of media transcend reliable news; they glisten with entertainment value that attaches to viewers’ minds. They begin to crave it.

It would be naive and irresponsible of me to only offer this one, media-based conclusion to events in Charlottesville. Obviously, these protests involve multifaceted arguments about the history of slavery, racial oppression and the freedom of speech. I couldn’t possibly unpack all of it in one post. But my intentions are to articulate the path I have noticed to this insanity. Run-of-the-mill individuals of sound cognitive abilities have participated and sympathized with established hate-groups. I can’t help but see the recruitment process as a series of clicks and likes. Extremist media is addictive because it is so affirmative. Easily accessible news networks inspire fear and passion. Before you know it, solace and community can be found in white supremacist groups. What was once unthinkable becomes rational. Groups they once wanted to correct or challenge needed to be silenced. For good.

Again, this is one lens to view the Charlottesville situation through. In the beginning of the Media Effects course, the class was challenged with the question: do media effect people? And after carefully studying theories and experiments in the media effects field, we were able to answer confidently: yes– but to an extent. The human brain is too complex to be drastically altered by just one component of a person’s life. While certain media may inspire some, bigotry is a deep-rooted issue that involves much more than a few hours of television.

The argument what about the other side? will always remain. Partisanship does not end with conservatism, definitely. Mainstream media is typically slanted left and devout liberal media outlets have become popular in efforts to combat extremist right ideology. I can only look to the events of Charlottesville to find what sets them apart. Does your partisanship urge you to hold handmade signs that encourage love, or does your partisanship wave banners of hatred? Does your extremism ram a vehicle into a crowd of people and reap 32-year-old Heather Heyer of her life? Or does it stand for what she stood for?

These recent events have us all in a spiral, I feel. I, for one, never pictured such scorching evil coming so close to my friends and family in such a volume. Some time in my life, I heard the expression “fear is a liar”, and I put the quote in my pocket and carried it with me ever since. These events frighten me– they sadden me and make me want to pull my hair out. But most of all, they make me want to put good back into the world. And that’s all I could ever encourage anyone else to do at this time.

Closing the topic of news media, my professor offered an anecdote to partisanship; a way to dodge the development of extremism. Humans are often fickle and set in their ways, but that does not mean we are incapable of change. Delving into one program or article  a week that is ideologically inconsistent with your views can at the very least expose you the other side of things. Consciously avoiding extremism provides your political anchor with clarity. Indulging in an opinion other than your own could be the difference between hateful ignorance and a step closer to unity.

And I think that’s what too many people need at the moment.

Over the history of film, people have found excitement in movies that take them places. Often we enter the theater and go on epic voyages, fall in love, conquer evil and live the lives we only dream of. The appeal of film is its ability to expose audiences to stories untold, exploring the worlds of creative fantasy. The real accomplishment of film, however, is it’s ability to keep us right at home. The movies most special to us are the ones that offer some sort of connection and nostalgia; an experience that we can laugh or cry to in understanding.

Throughout my life, I’ve looked to film to the answer questions that people could not. Movies, no matter how far off from the truth, gave me glimpses of what prom night would be like or how my first time would go. In moments of pain, I was able to watch movies that premised death, illness and heartbreak to ground my emotion in human experience. Each character or story we fall for shows a glimmer of our reflection. That’s why even the most simple scenes in film can be so powerful. Think the dinner table  scene in August: Osage County. Or Forrest’s monologue to Jenny’s headstone at the end of Forrest Gump. Film can highlight the commonplace as an adventure, in which having a busy Monday, going on a date or a night out can turn into the greatest story ever told. And to this effect, no cinematic experience is as wide open as the summer vacation.

Leaving school in the spring, I said goodbye to my friends and wished them well over the summer. As we relocated back to our respective homes across the country, we settled back into routines of work or home life. Being home for the summer in college is met with similar challenges for everyone– distance between friends and significant others, reuniting with parents and facing sheer boredom. The last of that list is a summer obstacle I’ve faced all my life. So many of my friends study abroad and vacation in paradise while I’m at home eating Doritos.

Even though finances are a major prospect of having an eventful summer, I told myself this would be the summer of “yes”. I challenged myself to accept and experience more. The catch, of course, would be my lack of control over what I would have to accept. By sitting at home doing nothing, I didn’t have anything to lose. But that wasn’t going to be good enough. I wanted legitimate answers to the inevitable “How was your summer?” come fall semester. I finally wanted to earn my summer movie moment.

As much promise as that sentence leads with, my second week home from school, my Gramma died. Her health had been failing since she moved to assisted living and, since I vowed to say “yes” more often, I agreed to fly out to Nebraska with my dad to see her one last good time. To make a long story short, we landed around 10 am and she passed around 3 in the afternoon. We stayed for the anticipated three days at my uncle’s house, flew back home for three, then came back for another two for Gramma’s funeral. It was exhausting and I was drained, but not particularly overwhelmed with grief.

If you’ve ever seen the 2005 dramedy Elizabethtown, my family interactions mirrored those of the film, where Orlando Bloom’s character returns to his hometown for his father’s funeral, interacting with estranged family members. Bloom’s character is an aggravated twenty-something, who struggles with his father’s death as much as he struggles with his sense of self. A reoccurring bit in the film is Bloom’s unusual response to his family’s greetings. Second and third cousins approach his character by saying “I’m so sorry about your father” and all he can conjure up is “…my condolences”.

I love how relevant and awkward this character response is. I only see my dad’s side of the family twice a year at maximum– and Gramma’s funeral was a refresher on just how distant I am from most of my relatives. Though I was met with familial warmth, maneuvering your way through family interaction as a young adult will forever be challenging. When I was approached with “I’m sorry about your Grandmother”, I kept responding with an all-too-perky “it’s okay!”. I shuddered off my poor social graces, and attempted to brief strangers on my life– a two-to-three sentence explanation of where I’m headed; skillfully tip toeing around the fact that I secretly don’t have much going on.

Be that first month of summer not what I asked for, I was able to takeaway plenty from Gramma’s death. After sorting through piles upon piles of her photo albums, all perfectly curated records of family get-togethers throughout time, my sense of family became emboldened like never before. There was a house full of people, whose day-to-day lives I know virtually nothing of, all genuinely happy to see me. I hugged my family members goodbye and left Nebraska feeling deeply rooted and deeply loved. You could’ve plopped me into any family-themed coming of age film and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

June continued with similar introspectiveness. Again, on trend with new experiences, I decided early into spring semester to take a summer credit and stay by myself on campus for a month. And I do mean by myself. June was the month I learned how to be alone. I took myself to lunch, sat in cafés for hours, shopped at the mall, found sunny spots in the city and simply sat. There were afternoons where I would drive my new car until the gas light came on just because I could. I would sing at the top of my lungs or cry in empty (or full) parking lots. If any of that was pathetic, I didn’t care. The whole experience felt like a slow-burning indie film. June was the month I learned to listened to myself.

Excitement (unexpectedly) ensued in July. My dad wanted to retrieve my Grandpa’s beer fridge from his childhood home. So, naturally, I agreed to ride for 15 hours back out to Nebraska to carry out this task and ride 15 hours back. It was an arrangement straight out of National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983). It would be my first road trip– and I would only need this one to turn me into a lover of the American tradition.

We cheered “Holiday ro-oo-oo-oad” merging onto new interstates, keeping our eyes peeled for WORLD’S BIGGEST BALL OF STRING! signs. We spent a fun afternoon in St. Louis, and I was able to put my feet in seven new states by the time we arrived back home. But I got the most enjoyment out of sitting back and looking out over the many corn fields and foothills, picturing other blonde 20-something girls in random homes, lying in their beds at night with stars in their eyes like I so often do. The whole experience was as existential as What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (1993), as mismatched and random as Little Miss Sunshine (2006), and just about as giddy as Britney Spears on her journey in Crossroads (2002).

While all of this was good and well, none of it particularly screamed summer. I craved something a little sunnier. At the end of the month, I accompanied my life-long best friend to go see her grandmother in Florida.

“She’s really old, we won’t be going out and doing much,” she warned, almost apologetic.

As if that would be a problem. We spent four days in her grandmother’s condo that was nestled a blissful 20 feet from the Gulf. I haven’t had an honest-to-God vacation in a few years, and this was the first time I traveled out of the state with only the accompaniment of a friend. We did nothing but cook ourselves out on the white sand. Talk about Endless Summer (1966). Though we never waded more than knee-deep, I was completely in the mindset of Blue Crush (2002). In the evenings, we put wine in to-go cups and walked on the beach for what felt like hours on end.

It occurred to me how different our lives had become since we transitioned from high school; that our reliable school friend group returned home less and less in the years that followed. But each night after dinner, we watched the sun dip under the horizon and talked about everything. Think Stand By Me (1986) or Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (2005) just not nearly as melancholy. Nostalgic, sure, but we joked and laughed and  sank our toes in the shore and relaxed. It was the first time in a long time that I didn’t have a damn thing on my mind. I finally got my summer bestie movie moment– if only Aquamarine had showed up (2006).

Reassessing my summer break, it didn’t reach Wet Hot American Summer (2001) proportions nor was it nearly as epic as the East High Wildcats’ working at Sharpay’s country club in the classic High School Musical 2 (2007). However, I only explained the truly premiere parts of my summer as the ones that emulated a popcorn feeling– moments that were cinematic in nature. While that was the theme of my rambling, my summer was made up of picturesque little moments, too.

I took a day trip to a state park on Memorial day, showed a college friend around my hometown, spent many afternoons by the pool and took over dinner for my family a few nights a week. I went to the Washington D.C. area to visit my boyfriend the week of his birthday and, though I’d like to say we galavanted through the capital like movie stars, we spent quality time not doing much of anything at all.

Summer is marketed as a carefree time for young people, where the promise of possibility lends itself to plots of romance and adventure on screen. It’s terribly easy to wish the summers in movies were your realities, full of mysticism and exhilaration. But  your life experiences cannot be capped by the season, which is why a lot of my summer reminded me of a plethora of films. Films that I somehow connect with and am able to project their energy. That’s the power of movies; their capacity to tint your view of life.

I have exactly two weeks left of summer vacation, and while I am completely ready to return to school, I intend to make the most of the time I have left. Who knows, I could end up at a Labor Day blow-out party the likes of Magic Mike XXL (2015) or American Pie 2 (2001), or find a Jaws sized beast in our local river (1975). Perhaps I’ll be gutted in the woods on an unassuming camping trip to the tune of any summer slasher film you can think of. I’m not sure, but I have an inkling I’ll be doing what I do best for the next two weeks:

watching a lot of movies.

Hatfields and McCoys. Capulets and Montagues. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. Throughout history, our society has held dear a good feud. A classic catfight usually consists of two parties, each at odds over words, actions and, more often than not, hearsay. Increasingly, modern media rejoices when celebrities, particularly female ones, throw shade in the direction of other female celebrities. Hurt feelings and animosity are celebrated now more than ever.

Speaking of Romeo and Juliet, singer Halsey just released a concept album loosely based on Shakespeare’s famous tragedy. Hopeless Fountain Kingdom is Halsey’s sophomore project, a solid followup to her debut Badlands. Her new album is a polished, mature continuation of her alternative internet-girl image. Garnering plenty of attention for being outspoken and a little brash, Halsey has created a following that is every bit of 2017.

The singer has been open about her sexual orientation, racial identity, and struggles in mental health among other things. Halsey even features a gay love song on her new album, which includes fellow bisexual artist Lauren Jauregui. Hopeless Fountain Kingdom feels very much made for kids of the new generation and representative of a youth counterculture– on brand with the Halsey persona. Which is why many of her fans were troubled that her song “Lie” features rapper Quavo of the group Migos.

Quavo and group mates have been on record gay-bashing other artists. Halsey fans speculated why she would allow Quavo on her record, essentially endorsing a homophobic artist. In an interview for The Guardian, Halsey explains:

“I think he’s misunderstood. Just because I choose to be a socially conscious artist, and I’m pretty good at it, that doesn’t mean every artist is going to be equipped to be politically correct,” Halsey states. “I don’t think he’s inherently homophobic, I think he’s in a tough place of trying to explain what he means. I agree his apology was bullshit but I can’t police everybody.”

Many were dissatisfied with her answer, as so much of what Halsey stands for lands within the realm of social justice. Beyond this weak response, many were confused by the rest of her statement:

“And there’s a lot of people I wouldn’t put on my record. Iggy Azalea: absolutely not. She had a complete disregard for black culture. Fucking moron. I watched her career dissolve and it fascinated me.”

Iggy Azalea, for those of you who can’t remember, had an incredibly short-lived career as a rapper. Sailing through Top 40 radio for most of 2014, Iggy faced accusations of whitewashing rap music and essentially ripping off her black peers. Public opinion of Azalea headed way south within a year, and internet hate paired with a very embarrassing breakup sent Iggy into a hiatus that is still indefinite.

Even considering Iggy Azalea as a forgettable radio trend, Halsey’s words still seem pretty harsh. Once the Twitterverse got a hold of this interview, Halsey immediately issued a lengthy, as-expected apology on her Twitter:

“Honestly? I didn’t know that Quavo had made homophobic comments when I collaborated him. We’ve never spoken a word to each other and + I have no intention of pursuing a friendship there, unless he wants to make a legitimate apology. I work tirelessly to represent & support marginalized communities I love & am a part of. I’m sorry if my actions have ever seemed otherwise.”

Deleted from this thread of apology tweets was her very unapologetic stance of her Iggy Azalea statements.

So, this leaves us with the question: whose side are you on? Usually in these social media battles, there’s a clear winner and loser, an offense and a defense. We should be able to pick out a right and a wrong somewhere. While I am the first in line to read something juicy, this situation is particularly exhausting to me because of who it involves. Halsey and Iggy Azalea, outside of being popular musicians, are two of the most annoying online presences recognized by the world today.

Halsey is sort of infamous for doing the absolute most. As I said before, she lives out her Tumblr-girl persona full force, making music that represents social justice and millennials. While her devoted younger fans see her has the ultimate creative, much of what she has to say comes off as pretentious and try-hard. And it seems that these impressions are not completely unwarranted, because Halsey has come after a few big names in music, making comparisons that display an arrogant side to the singer. Audiences also question whether or not her devotion to LGBTQ+ and mental health issues are her platform or her shtick, because she seems to employ both as devices in victimizing herself when necessary.

Iggy Azalea, comparatively, has ruined her reputation by saying all the wrong things. As a white, female rapper, her responsibility in the media was to be extremely careful. But rather than creating an inclusive discussion in the industry, she made cheap imitations of other black artists. On top of this, Iggy never acknowledged her wrongdoings and made weak jabs at those who called her out. Rather than stepping up to redirect her career, Iggy Azalea defends herself more than she proves herself.

All things considered, I’m not on a side for this one. I don’t really want to pick one. Halsey dragged Iggy’s name out of nowhere, which was inappropriate and mean spirited. But didn’t she say what people already knew? Had social media not played a part in calling out Iggy’s whitewashing, we would be stuck listening to Black Widow 2.0 for the next few years. Both perspectives are understandable, but hardly supportable. When it comes to pop culture figures, we are increasingly encouraged to indulge in their trivial drama. But as these stars become more petty and entitled, we go beyond asking whose side, and start to question who’s worse?

Sometime after 2010, the unspoken law that everyone had to be perfect secretly went into affect. Presently, if a celebrity missteps in an interview or their social media, they are completely raked over the coals. Halsey and Iggy Azalea share this experience, because of their many media slip-ups. This feud essentially boils down to the whiny girl vs. longstanding displays of ignorance. Surely there are celebrities that we can better support than these two?

What about Miley Cyrus? She’s supported the LGBTQ+ community whole-heartedly with her Happy Hippie Foundation. She’s great! But she has been accused of racism in the past by making fun of black culture in her music videos and performances. Nicki Minaj has called her out for this, and celebrates her own blackness, in turn inspiring many young women of color. But Nicki Minaj has also reportedly posted bail for her brother, who was arrested for raping a minor. Yikes. And those college students she vowed to pay tuition for on Ellen have yet to deposit a check. Taylor Swift, who has beefed with Nicki Minaj in the past, is certainly charitable. With countless fan hospital visits and initiatives like Swiftmas, Taylor is a totally supportable celebrity! Unless of course you don’t consider the radio silence on anything political in the past year, negative treatment of fans, money hungry business strategies and her overall mean-girl reputation in Hollywood. Swift’s nemesis in the media is Katy Perry, who seems to publicly agree with the aforementioned problematic behavior on Taylor’s part. So why not get on Katy’s side? With fun and cheeky music, Katy Perry has also been active politically and socially– raising awareness in almost every conflict we face presently. But even though she’s toured the world and donated money everywhere, she’s faced backlash for appropriating and fetishizing Asian culture multiple times. Even though Katy Perry has spoken up on police brutality and supported movements like Black Lives Matter, she may or may not have made a racist joke on Instagram Live a few weeks ago. And even though Katy Perry has been awarded by the Human Rights Campaign for her work as a gay rights activist, she was faced with the exact same criticism as Halsey for featuring Migos on her respective record Witness.

If my maze of celebrity controversy did not illustrate my point, I’ll elaborate. We hold celebrities to this impossible standard of exemplary behavior and politics. In doing this, we have created a convoluted points system in which one celebrity can take the moral upper hand with slightly more social awareness than his or her peer. We are quick to write off people for their misjudgments; if you are a media celebrity these misjudgments are even more quickly blown out of proportion.

I noticed in reviewing these feuds, I only included female pop stars. I hate to add to the larger problem here, because hyping up these feuds between women reiterates stereotypes about bitchiness and female competition. That’s why I believe Halsey errs more on the side of fault in her recent statements, because she advocates for both feminism and anti-bullying. Iggy Azalea has admitted that the tsunami of internet hate directed her way has lead her to depression and suicidal thoughts. Since her career imploded with whitewashing accusations, Iggy has essentially kept to herself. Throwing another female under the bus is not in the spirit of feminism– but remaining teachable certainly is.

To cap off many dramatic reports, Iggy Azalea finally responded to Halsey’s comments with this:

“I don’t know her. I’ve never met her. So I thought it was a bit strange to just throw that out there … She’s young and I hope that she learns to be a bit less judgmental.”

This response was not accountable as it could have been, but honest as it needed to be. It’s not always easy to say “Hey lay off– that hurts my feelings!” when you share a bit of the blame. Perhaps Iggy Azalea will never fully address the racial issues surrounding her media image, but she is facing some insurmountable problems on her career path music-wise. Keeping her nose clean and giving classy responses like these is in Iggy’s capacity right now. She doesn’t owe me anything, so that will have to be good enough.

I think Halsey has a good heart as well. Whether her approach is likable or not, she entered her music career with every intention of representing something. And that’s a brave move for a young woman. I’m actually really enjoying the music on her new album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom. But under the guise of social justice and pontification, that’s really all it is. Music. Even though she loves her art, Halsey struggles with being a little too big for her britches when making music. Although her identity is valid, and the opinions that it garners are to be considered as such, this does not make her all-knowing.

Maybe Halsey and the rest of us could benefit in understanding that our favorite celebrities are not Gods, nor are they monsters. Putting into perspective who they are and who we are will ultimately dissolve the narrative of unattainable perfection. Keeping score of who-said-what distracts from who is genuinely good and who is not. As a media audience, it’s time to end this narrative. Relax your anxious Twitter fingers, be objective, and move on.

The following article contains To the Bone (2017) spoilers.

When I first saw the trailer for To the Bone (2017), I mistook the film for an upcoming Netflix original series. As the trailer portrayed the story of a young woman’s battle with an eating disorder, I was immediately disappointed in Netflix. Surely they weren’t going to make the rounds on every social issue and turn each into a teen fandom a-la 13 Reasons Why. That would be in poor taste, right? I was reluctant to support a series of this nature until yesterday, when I clicked to find out To the Bone is a Netflix Original film with a run-time of only about 100 minutes. This changed everything.

Series are typically a far more goal-oriented storytelling. And while I am the first to commit myself to the couch for 12 hours for a binge-watch, series can often take the authenticity out of character and plot development. Because each episode is supposed to lead the viewer to the next, the business of series-making is more pressurized and less penetrating. Film, on the other hand, has the ability take an audience completely where it wants to go, at its own pace, making any detours necessary. To this effect, series have become vastly more exciting to marketable audiences than movies. Because series consumption is quick and ravenous, fans of shows practically create a second narrative to the show. Netflix dramas like 13 Reasons Why and Orange is the New Black are sensationalized beyond their original purposes. Though fan popularity has driven these shows to success, I see trite Cosmopolitan articles and BuzzFeed quizzes that compromise the weight of these compelling stories. Because To the Bone is a movie, it is potentially freed from the mania-like viewership that controls successful Netflix series. As a film, To the Bone can simply take us where it must.

And take me on an unexpected journey it did. To the Bone is not a melodrama; it is not a dark comedy; it is not a coming of age story. To the Bone is the tale of Ellen, who battles anorexia. As her health becomes critical, Ellen faces her personal and family problems in a recovery home. As angsty as that sounds, the film is equal parts harrowing, ironic and pure. I kept waiting around for a heroic, come-to-Jesus monologue about anorexia, but it was never necessary. This film felt real because it purposed all the emotions of mental illness into its presentation. Even cinematically, I felt To the Bone offered a new vision of those who suffer from eating disorders; one of clarity and sharpness.

Before I watched To the Bone, I debated with myself what kind of lens I would watch this film through. I asked myself- Okay, how am I going to tackle this one? Because as I said before, when I saw the trailer for the film, I thought careful, Netlifx. Eating disorders are a widely untouchable topic. To the Bone had to strike just the right chord or else audiences would be offended. The film needed to be gritty enough to have a hand in the conversation, but polite enough not to be triggering.

I realized, quickly, that I was censoring my own interpretation of this film before the opening credits. Too often we monitor our thoughts and actions in fear of misrepresenting a cause. I questioned if it was my place to write a review of this film, or if I could fully take in the message it had to offer. I was holding this film up in a way that augmented the story’s integrity. As mass viewership often does in 2017, we let our feelings get in the way of the lessons we should learn. And there is plenty to be learned from this film.

A main concern from audiences is the film’s glamorization of anorexia and bulimia. Many offer that making a film featuring an in-depth look at eating disorders will encourage audiences to unhealthy habits and body monitoring. Director and writer of the film Marti Noxon has shared that this could not be further from the truth. Stating that this film is semi-autobiographical, Noxon made it a point that To the Bone focused on the character more than it did the body. There are only a handful of scenes in the film that show Ellen’s malnourished body without her face. This directorial choice takes objectification out of Ellen’s illness. She isn’t just body parts struggling, she’s a person.

I believe part of the taboo with eating disorder discussion is its underlying sexual implications. More so than any other mental illness, I would argue, eating disorders place women in the most difficult social position. Physical appearance (and therefore desirability) takes precedent over actual wellness. This misconception is portrayed in Ellen’s stepmother and mother, as they comment on Ellen’s body throughout the film. I’m sure their misplaced concern is annoying or unsettling to some viewers. Eating disorders are such a sensitive topic, how could they be so careless?

If you haven’t gathered already, To the Bone is a tastefully developed middle finger to the social justice era. To the Bone is not careful in its wording, nor does it tiptoe around its characters’ circumstance. But to my surprise, no part of the film is sloppy or melodramatic. The pain and tears in the film are earned. To the Bone is balanced enough to show the dynamism of an anorexic character as a young woman. A scene that exemplifies this is Ellen and her friend Luke’s dinner date. Ellen is gabbing away with Luke, laughing and telling stories. But in between sentences, Ellen spits her Asian noodles into her napkin. This damaging eating disorder behavior is not played up with dramatic music, nor is her friend ashamed of her or angry. This was a moment necessary to plot development that incorporated her eating disorder rather than showboating it. As we watch Ellen progress, the levels to her illness are rich in family problems and self destruction.

This full display of Ellen’s character isn’t particularly pleasant. She isn’t sweet or lovably cheeky; her character has faced real hardship and she is incredibly guarded because of it. The same goes for the other characters in the inpatient facility.  As a result, the things that come out of their mouths are not always thoughtful or socially acceptable. While viewers at home may be uncomfortable with this, a review of the film I watched explained it this way: the characters in this film are losing their will to live. Do you really think think they care about being appropriate or kind?

To the Bone plays into the political correctness of eating disorders by incorporating Ellen’s artistic storyline. Ellen posted her ED-themed artwork on Tumblr, which inspired a follower– a complete stranger– to commit suicide. Ellen shares that this person left her artwork behind as an explanation to her family. I appreciated this narrative within the film, because I have actually stumbled across Tumblr accounts of this very nature. We push for people to express themselves creatively until their result makes us uncomfortable. Similarly, in 2017, we are to support mental illness… under limited discussion. Sharing gruesome details or hard truths is touchy. To a degree, we wish for some sort of remorse in eating disorder storytelling. To feel better about ourselves, we secretly want films such as this to apologize for their transparency.

I applaud To the Bone for unapologetically being real: nothing more and nothing less. Over and over again, members of Ellen’s family tell her to just eat. Of course the facets of eating disorders are convoluted and make ingestion seem repulsive; the notion of just eating seems impossible. It’s like telling a person with an open wound to just stop bleeding. But as I consider the film, the crux of To the Bone is very simple. In one scene, Dr. Beckham takes his patients to a simulated rain art exhibition, where the housemates can stand, get soaked and breathe in what it feels like to live. Just being is motivated in the same fashion as just eating– with great courage and a little push from the voices you trust.

The real-life experience of those with eating disorders is that of confused parents, banal professional advice and a crumbling sense of self. Dressing these experiences up as easier or more harmless would disadvantage audiences on their way to understanding. In high school, my creative writing teacher once explained that sharing your truth is more important than political correctness, or how others may view what you have to say. The parents in To the Bone are oblivious and deeply selfish. The housemates in the film partake in disturbing behaviors that coincide with their respective disorders. While both character traits are not totally “correct” in 2017, they show the bleak truth of what living with or around an ED is like. By holding up this type of mirror, hopefully we may begin to adjust the way we help those with mental illness.

I do not have, nor have I ever been diagnosed with an eating disorder. But the eight million individuals a year that are diagnosed with anorexia, bulimia and related eating disorders proves that this issue can be, and is, close to all of us. To the Bone is a heavy film, no doubt. But the movie does not make a spectacle out of Ellen’s illness, and I can’t imagine the stark honesty of the film offending those with similar experiences. If the images in To the Bone are too intense for you, don’t watch the film. But the subject matter should not immediately push you away from a story with such incredible impact.

To the Bone confronts the fatality of eating disorders– a fact not completely promoted in mainstream media. Even after all the information about eating disorders I’ve accumulated throughout the years, this film still opened my eyes to the possibility of losing the battle. I think back to the hours my friends and I spent in the mirror as young girls, squeezing and prodding at one another. I think about how some classmates acted finicky during school lunch periods and no one really ever asking why. I think back to examining the severe bruising on my childhood friend’s boney spine and her deflective answers to my questions. I think about the numerous death announcements of young people, particularly girls, stating their longstanding struggle with their ED was over. I think about all of it, and realize just how avoidable and unnecessary that pain is.

The voices of survivors should never be silenced, because the result may turn into a dialogue about proper therapy and help. When we tell those who experience eating disorders to just eat, we essentially negate the mental and emotional complexities of their illness. To the Bone opens up these complexities and faces them head-on. Without films like To the Bone, eating disorders may only ever be understood at face value and we will continue telling those suffering to just eat. We need media like this to explain how mental illness encompasses a person. To the Bone is a staunch representation of a battle that so many face; the execution is poignant and full of life. This film is the first I’ve seen in a while that addresses a choice social issue fully and with resolve. To the Bone takes us through bone and to the heart.