Looking for Something?
Posts Tagged for

Family

10 Reasons to love One Day At A Time

Author:
oneday

By Sophia Simon-Bashall

I am not someone who watches a lot of TV programmes.

I’ve watched and enjoyed a couple of shows in the past year or so, but I am still more of a movie fan. Nothing, except Orange Is The New Black, has really excited me. Until very, very recently.

At the beginning of 2017, Netflix premiered a new show called One Day At a Time. It’s a remake of a 1975 American sitcom. It could’ve fallen into the trap of nostalgia. It could’ve tried to replicate the original. But it didn’t. It is entirely its own show – merely paying homage to the former incarnation – and it is absolutely brilliant.

You should watch it. Here are ten reasons why:

1. One Day At a Time is centered around one Cuban-American family, all of whom are proud of their heritage. Too often, Latinx representation on screen is marginal, caricatured, and negative. That is not the case here. Where stereotypes are used, they are acknowledged – and either celebrated or gently mocked. In this show the Latinx characters are allowed complexities and contradictions – they are multi-dimensional. They are flawed human beings who are ultimately good and moral. This kind of representation is so important, but especially in the current state of the world.

2. At its core, the show is light-hearted and fun. It is a wonderful relief, and it is impossible not to laugh from your belly whilst watching it.

oneday2

3. But it is also unafraid to tackle important issues, and is not neutral in its viewpoint. Across the first series, One Day At a Time talks about refugees and has a key storyline focused on deportation. It touches on these topics with sensitivity and compassion, refusing to perpetuate the dehumanisation and demonisation of migrants and asylum seekers.

4. The teenage girl in the family, Elena, takes ‘social justice warrior’ as a compliment, and is unapologetic about her beliefs.

5. And *SPOILER ALERT*
her coming out is so well done. Coming out is usually depicted as a single moment in time, and it typically has one of two outcomes: either everybody is fine with it (YAY!) or the reaction is extremely negative. This is rarely a reflection of reality. For most of us, coming out is a more continuous process, and that is exactly what One Day At a Time Elena comes out to different people in her life at different points, and each of them have different reactions. She faces several difficulties – most significantly when she tries to come out to her father – but it is ultimately a positive experience. This is encouraging for closeted LGBTQ+ people – far more so than the overwhelmingly positive depictions of coming out, which only cisgender heterosexual folk believe in. What Elena’s journey shows is the truth:
coming out isn’t all rainbows and unicorns, but it isn’t always tragic and traumatic either.

oneday3

6. Penelope – the mom – is a veteran who served in Afghanistan, and defies the notion that women cannot be strong and brave and badass. This comes out in so many instances throughout the series, and it is a delight to watch.

7. But she is also allowed to be vulnerable, too. She struggles with PTSD as a result of her time in action, and we witness some of her difficulties with this. What’s heartening is that we also get to see her find a place to help her heal, in a therapy group for female veterans.

oneday4

8.Lydia – the abuelita (grandma) – is fabulous. Played by the legendary Latina Rita Moreno, she is hilarious and fun and impossible not to love. Lydia is the heart of One Day At a Time, for sure.

9. Women and the relationships between them are at the forefront. There’s the young teenage boy, Alex, and the neighbour/extended family-member Schneider, but men are otherwise at the periphery. The relationship between Elena and her best friend Carmen is given attention and is shown to be important. The relationships between the three generations of women in the family are shown to be important. The friendship Penelope finds in her fellow female veterans are key to her moving forward in her life. Relationships between women are made to matter, and this matters.

oneday5

10. Having a man in the house isn’t portrayed as necessary. When Elena and Sam’s dad walks back into family life, his presence isn’t revealed as the missing piece to the puzzle. Penelope – despite left-over feelings – does not run straight into his arms. In fact, she realises that she is better off without him. The family is strong enough as they are – it may not always be easy but they make it work, one day at a time.

Fractured Families: A Review of The Green Road

Author:
the green road

By Anna Hill

Content note – brief mention of: death, bi erasure, aids, white saviourism, physical abuse and childhood neglect and abuse

If The Green Road by Anne Enright had not been shortlisted for the Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction I wouldn’t have picked it up. The novel is set in the west of Ireland and follows Rosaleen Madigan and her grown and growing up children. The four children: Emmett, Dan, Hanna and Constance start the narrative in various places and states of growing up (Hanna is 8 in the first chapter) – from Dan in New York during the aids crisis to Constance in a hospital in Limerick in 1997.

The Green Road is also about the way families work; the way that we misunderstand and create images of our relatives in our heads. It’s about the gaps between people, between recognition, the space between cliffs and words and darkness of waiting – for say a play to start, or for people to die or be cured. There is so much expecting that everyone is disappointed. The novel is also about what being a mother means; what having children does to you and your life and how that might negatively and positively affect your perspective. Enright offers us some different versions of motherhood, from Rosaleen who is dramatic and difficult to Constance who finds her children comforting and safe, to Hanna who is erratic and messy.

As an opening Hanna’s chapter is beautifully crafted and unlike the messy whirlwind that she epitomizes, or the “dirty protest” of her behavior and life – it is intricate and detailed. The observations Hanna makes as an eight year old girl learning about death and growth are captivating. The rest of the family tease Hanna sometimes cruelly, saying that her “bladder is very close to [her] eyes” and, as every crybaby will have heard (me included) “here come the waterworks”! Hanna’s connection with fluids is interesting because she is associated with them throughout the novel – not just tears, but also blood and alcohol which lends her to a very traditionally emotional feminine body vocabulary and voice.

Dan’s introductory chapter was the most heartbreaking – it follows the melancholic sweetness of queer men loving each other and dying. Unfortunately though Dan experiences biphobia from both the characters and Enright’s vision for him – Dan expresses how he loves his partner, isabelle and also says “I’m not actually gay you know”. I’m sure to some extent that Dan’s reluctance could be pegged to internalized homophobia, but it might also be because he’s not gay – because he really does love Isabelle, but he also loves and is sexually attracted to men. Bisexual men will have lost their partners to aids, they will have had aids too and simply because they are not gay doesn’t make them straight, doesn’t mean they aren’t intrinsically linked to the pain in the 1990s. I think you can read Dan’s love for Isabelle as proof of his bisexuality and this chapter contributes to the rampant Bi erasure in queer history.

Other than the lack of awareness of polysexual identities, I think the way the chapter approaches queer issues was sensitive and appropriate. One of the moments that has stayed with me the most is when a character’s mother finally comes to visit him in his last days; after staring into the eyes of her lovely son, Enright writes “he became human again. He became pure.”.

Out of all four siblings, I enjoyed Constance’s perspective best. Never prioritizing herself, Constance devotedly looks after her children and her well meaning but inept husband Dessie who “goes peculiar” when she is sick. Constance and her body are one and the same so when her body has stopped working in the way it should it’s a blip in her life – she thinks she can’t get sick because she has too much to do! Whilst waiting for the test results though there are some delicious sensory descriptions; the beauty of the mammogram with “the map of light that was her left breast” and this wonderful visceral passage on giving birth: “she remembered the undoing of her own bones as the children were born. Her pelvis opening – there was a pleasure in it, like the top of a yawn – as the baby twisted out of her. It was all so simply done. And the baby was such a force, each time.”

Even after she has given birth Constance still sees her body as a “fabulous object” for the enjoyment “for all the family”. And Dessie, clueless, once asks “How is all that?” mystified by women’s bodies.

The one character I really couldn’t stand was Emmett – I found his voice violent and misogynistic and his positioning racist and insensitive. He is living as an aid worker in Segou, Mali, but the whole chapter positions him as the white savior to Africa, which he often refers to as a monolithic, singular entity rather than the nuanced varied continent it is. His misogyny comes out in his approach to his girlfriend Alice, who he undermines and sometimes thinks about hurting physically. He treats her pain in a way that dehumanizes her seeing it as something that makes her “sweet and wild” even suggesting that her abusive and neglectful childhood was worth it because she “turned it all to good”!

The representation of childhood and the long standing affects our pasts have on us is a key thread. And that all comes to head in the childhood home the Madigan’s shared, which, unlike their family relations, is never complicated or harmful, but rather exists soaking up their lives. Here is one of my favourite passages about the house: “It was a question of texture, Dan thought, a whiff of your former self in a twist of fabric, a loose board. It was the reassuring madness of patterned wallpaper under the daily shift of light…. The house made sense in a way that nothing else did.”

Overall I think The Green Road is a delicate and dynamic novel but its structure is where it falls down. The sections can be jarring and in some cases leave too many gaps – for example we meet Hanna as a child and only again at age 37, so her life is not explored in the same way as the other siblings. Family focused novels can offer engaging ideas about growing up and relationships and I definitely think Enright succeeded here – I wouldn’t say I was blown away, but I enjoyed the fragility of the words and the subtlety of the settings.

Male “Guardians” in Saudi Arabia

Author:

 

By Amy Callaghanurl

There are issues with women’s rights everywhere. These issues include, but are certainly not limited to; the ever-present wage gap, the continued effect of sexism encountered by women in their day to day lives, and, of course, the fact that in Saudi Arabia women still need the permission of their male guardian to do pretty much anything.

It’s a fact that women’s rights in places like Saudi Arabia are horrific. We hear shocking news stories all the time, most often about the driving ban, which is perhaps the most well known issue in the UK and US. But the human rights issue goes far beyond that. The guardian system means that  women are assigned a male ‘guardian’- usually their father, brother or husband – and this ‘guardian’ basically has total control over the woman’s life. Women can’t study, work, travel, even go to the doctor without the permission of their guardian. Good grief. It all sounds a bit Victorian, doesn’t it?

My question, though, is about the cultural restraints on women. Sure, there is legislation in place regarding the guardian system, and the driving ban, and we know Saudi Arabia is not hesitant to punish harshly for breaches. But does a cultural aspect play into it at all? Even if the legislation was slackened, would women feel comfortable making the most of new freedoms?

The answer, according to the wife of a Saudi journalist, is no.

In June, in one of my classes at school, I got the opportunity to listen to a Saudi man – a journalist. He worked for a magazine – talking about issues in Saudi Arabia. At first glance, he seemed reasonably progressive. He spoke about how he wished women’s rights were more like how they are in the UK, where he apparently spends a lot of time. Yet scratch the surface and his answers to certain questions seemed slightly evasive and indirect. And one of the things he said which surprised me most was about his wife.

He seems like a nice husband, don’t get me wrong. His wife travels with him to the UK, and when in the UK seems to enjoy all the freedoms of a UK woman, like being allowed to drive, for example. Yet her husband told us that she had said, despite being perfectly happy to drive in the UK, that she wouldn’t drive in Saudi Arabia even if it was legal – and even if, 5 years after it became legal, it was a widely accepted practice.

Hmmm. That just doesn’t fly with me. I’m sure, of course, that there are women who wouldn’t feel comfortable, initially, driving. But after it became commonly accepted, I’m pretty sure women would gladly be driving about, enjoying their new (and overdue) freedom. In addition, the prolific campaign Women2Drive which asks that the ban on women driving be lifted (started by Manal al-Sharif, a Saudi woman and activist) has garnered a lot of public support, not only overseas but, more tellingly, in the Saudi community, with many women driving cars in towns in Saudi Arabia in protest of the ban. So clearly, Saudi women do want to drive.

Another statistic reflecting the relative progressiveness of women in Saudi Arabia is the fact that 60% of university graduates in Saudi Arabia are Saudi women. That’s right, 60%. Saudi women make up the majority of graduates – showing a keen thirst for learning and knowledge, and the gaining of skills – yet they only constitute 18.6% of the nation’s workforce (as of 2011). What happens between graduating and a career? Where do all the intelligent, capable, eager Saudi women go? The most likely answer is, their male guardian won’t let them work – they’ve had their chance to go and study, and now they should be satisfied with staying in the home where they belong.

Yet even the fact that they want to study shows that Saudi women want to progress. They don’t want to stay locked in the same rights-restricting jam. Give them the freedom to do these things themselves – no male permission needed – and they will. And the country will be better for it.

Hey there!

We are Powered By Girl. We're young women who write for young women. We do it because we believe there's more to 13-25 year old women than clothes, boys and celebrities. So please have a look at our stuff, and join us!

Sign up to get our blogs in your inbox!