Karate Kid Holds Up Surprisingly Well

Sometimes I get drunk and watch old action movies for fun, and I recently decided to do that with The Karate Kid. Usually, it's a hilarious exercise because the movies don't hold up all that well (ahem, Top Gun).

Karate Kid, though, was real AF, and in many ways felt more progressive than movies I see today.

For one thing, the feminism is real. Elisabeth Shue's character, Ali, is not your typical airhead love interest (it so depresses me that I have to write this). For one thing, she's always out doing stuff with her friends. She clearly has an interior life and a social life, and isn't just waiting around for Daniel. She also isn't shy about telling him that she likes him and telling him what she wants and expects. When a guy grabs her in a way she doesn't like, she punches him. Daniel doesn't see that and assumes she was cheating on him, and one of her friends sets him straight, telling him that she shouldn't have to explain something like that to him—he ought to trust that she's a good person.

When Daniel gets a new car, he rushes to show it to Ali—and wants her to drive it. I noticed myself cringing because I was so sure she would crash it and become the butt of a joke about women not being able to drive. (And what does that say about how I've been socialized?) Instead, he helps her figure out the controls (just as he had to do a few minutes before), and they drive off happily.

Also, let's talk about Daniel's mom. Lucille LaRusso is a single mother figuring it out under difficult circumstances. What's striking here, though, is that you never see her lamenting that she's alone or doesn't have a partner. You see a woman who's excited to make her own way and discover a new career. She's frustrated and struggling in some ways, but she's also forming herself in a way that you can tell is thrilling for her. She wants to be in California, and she wants to explore her job opportunities. Daniel's unhappy about it, in a teenage way, and she expresses sympathy but is also clear that she's a person and she deserves this. She's awesome, and different from the way I often see single mothers portrayed now. (She does have one of the most unintentionally funny scenes in the movie, though, when she declares to Daniel, "I could never make this much money in computers!" That, too, is telling, though—it's an artifact of the time when computers were considered women's work and were consequently devalued. Hmmm...)

I often feel like there's this idea that society gets more progressive over time, but it's all too rare now to see a love interest character who's as much her own person as Ali is. This really gives the lie to the idea that feminism has been accomplished. I feel like U.S. society has gone backwards since this movie was made, in many ways.

What I really want to talk about, though, is the drunk Mr. Miyagi scene. I remembered it from childhood, and I remembered that his wife had died and he was wrecked over it.

It was a memorable scene, and there are a lot of clips on YouTube of him singing the Japanese Blues. What I didn't remember, however, is exactly how cruel and damning his story is. If you look carefully at the newspaper clips that Daniel is reading, you'll see that Mr. Miyagi fought for the U.S. during World War II and was decorated for his bravery. At the very same time, his pregnant wife was in an internment camp, where she died while giving birth—probably unnecessarily because it seems like she doesn't get proper medical treatment. (I couldn't find a clip of this whole part, but the movie can be rented and streamed on Amazon).

A lot of people on YouTube seem amused by his drunken antics, but I sobbed through this scene. It seems like the truth about the imprisonment of Japanese people in the U.S. has only been coming out recently, but here's a very popular movie from the early 80s facing it head on.

I'm not going to say this is a perfect movie, but it's a very good movie and it held up way better than I thought it would.

I thought I would be annoyed at Mr. Miyagi's mysterious oriental-ness, but he's a real character, with a past and an arc. You see him in the movie learning to face down racism and get out and make his own life despite his grief. He and Daniel adopt each other, and that helps them both. I'm a sucker for a powerful father figure relationship, and for chosen family stories, and that's what this movie is.

Oh, and that crane scene that's often mocked these days? Watch it again in its full context. I dare you not to cry.

Music Mondays: "Needed Me" by Rihanna

Warning: This video contains graphic scenes of violence and exploitation

This song is so beautiful, and the video for it is so ugly, but I think these things match and go together. The beauty of the song very much exists in the context of ugliness, and that's what the video is showing. To me, this expresses the power and soothing beauty that can come in the aftermath of horror, and it's something that's felt healing to me lately.

Rihanna is very sexy in this, but she's sexy in that way that isn't for anyone but herself, in my opinion. She feels turned very inward here, and I appreciate that, and I like it when I feel that way, too.

Deadline for Coming Together: Positively Sexy Is Tomorrow!

Hi friends! A quick reminder that the deadline for Coming Together: Positively Sexy is tomorrow! More details are here.

As I've been saying, please don't hesitate to email me if you're just finding out about this and need more time. I want all the submissions I can get! You can reach me at annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com.

I'm looking forward to reading your story, and to sharing more news about the book as we go forward!

When Talking About Street Harassment Leaves Me Feeling Bruised

I went to a discussion this week on street harassment. While the event was well run, it turned out to be pretty difficult for me, and I wanted to write a little about why.

I showed up expecting a group that was well versed in the issue of street harassment. I thought many people there would have a lot of experience on the receiving end. Instead, I found that I was initially the only person who experienced frequent street harassment (later, one other person showed up who had similar experiences). Despite having a careful and thoughtful facilitator, this placed me and that other person in a weird position. It felt like I needed to frequently step in to explain what my experiences of street harassment are really like. It also felt like many of the people present had a lot of trouble having empathy for me and that other person. Instead, they seemed to center their own difficulties (i.e. "But how do I approach people on the street if people might think I'm a harasser?").

There are a few things that I wish were taken for granted in discussions of street harassment:

1) Strangers don't have a right to my attention.
Saying that someone is just flirting or just wants to get to know me doesn't explain why they feel free to force me to participate in that. I don't want to flirt. I don't want to get to know you on the street. I'm very bothered that other people's desire to have my attention is placed above my need to make choices about how I use my own limited resources.

2) Obscene comments and threatening gestures are really not a way to "get to know" someone.
The "he was just trying to get to know you" idea seems very weak when I think about the actual stories involved. Despite the fact that this idea comes up very persistently, I can't believe that someone who follows me down the street in his car is "just trying to get to know me." I can't believe that anyone thinks that screaming, "Oooh, titties!" at the sight of me is a good opening to "getting to know" me. I am flabbergasted that this defense is brought up frequently (including in this week's discussion).

3) Interactions that may not seem threatening to a member of a privileged group can be very threatening to a member of a minority group.
A man may not mind having a woman scream that she likes his ass (or maybe he would, that's fine, too). But that screaming woman is unlikely to present the type of threat to his safety that a man screaming the same thing could present to a woman's. A white person may feel perfectly safe while interacting with police. That doesn't mean a black person will feel the same way in that interaction. A straight person might find questions about his girlfriend innocuous. A queer person might find the same questions threatening. A cis person might not feel anything in particular about being misgendered (though often cis people seem to have a lot of feelings about this!). That doesn't mean it's okay to do that to a trans or nonbinary person. This is a really important principle that people need to understand in order to have effective conversations with people from groups they don't belong to.

So with that in mind, I'll tell a story of the interaction that disturbed me most in the discussion. I was explaining why I've grown wary of people on the street, no matter how they approach me. I described the way that many interactions start out seeming innocent and escalate into harassment. I gave an example:

A guy came up to me once and asked for directions to the nearest department store. We were close to one, so this didn't seem strange and I told him how to get there.

Him: Do they sell women's clothing there?

Me: Yes.

Him: Do they sell bras?

Me: (getting uneasy) Yes.

Him: What size bra do you wear?

(I hurry away.)

I didn't get into this at the discussion, but this really had a lingering effect on me. There was something about the look on the guy's face when he asked me what size bra I wear that shook me deep down. He had this gross and victorious smile. It made me feel like the whole point of the interaction was that he wanted to ask me a question about my breasts. I felt like he'd gotten what he wanted from me and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I felt stupid for letting him talk to me in the first place. I felt afraid that he would follow me.

Someone at the discussion later brought up the idea that this guy was "just trying to flirt" with me. Maybe not well ("well" defined as, in a way I liked). The clear implication, to my mind, was that there was no real harm in this behavior. It's hard for me to remember the precise moment of this interaction, because my face went hot and I sort of froze up. This person was looking at me, and I found I couldn't look them in the eye anymore. I remember the person saying something like, "He was just flirting, don't you think?" And I couldn't return the gaze, and this person pursued me. "No? You don't think so?"

I felt stuck because I didn't want to lash out in a way that would get me further dismissed. I said something like, "If you think asking someone's bra size within four seconds of meeting them is flirting, then I don't..." And I trailed off because I don't know how to help you if you think that.

More importantly, being questioned like that hurts me. I didn't know how to defend myself for a long time because I was very caught up in worrying about the other person's intentions. I'd sit frozen through an entire horrible interaction because I just wasn't sure when I was allowed to call it. It's very important for my own well being to reject that sort of questioning. No. You don't have a right to my attention, strange man. No, there is no excuse for asking my bra size on the street. There just isn't.

I also hadn't described the man when I told the story. At the time this happened, I was in my mid-20s. The man who approached me was easily several decades older than me. That situation is predatory. It's not innocent or fun. But the age doesn't matter that much, because the point is that when I'm walking down the street, I want to be left alone.

I said as much to the group. There are places where you can talk to me, where I go because I'm open to social interaction. For example, discussion groups, or mixer type events. I want people to come up to me if and only if there's a social setting inviting such a thing. I don't feel a lot of sympathy for you if you complain that this makes it hard for you to get a date on the street. I'm not on the street looking for dates. I'm there to go to the store or to meet a friend or to go to work or get exercise or whatever.

I'm interested (and disturbed) by how ready people are to assume good faith on the part of the harasser, and, in combination with that, to assume that I'm just confused when I report my feelings of hurt and fear.

Over and over, I kept hearing people talk about the situation of the harasser who's maybe socially inept but really just wants to form connections. The thing that bothered me when I woke up the next day is that this narrative persisted despite the fact that me and the other frequently harassed person told no stories of this nature. We talked about being followed, cursed at, having dirty words whispered to us. How do you hear that and then lament how people are "just trying to connect"?

I'm chilled by this. Really chilled. And sort of in despair about it.

Why is it so easy for people to empathize with harassers and so difficult for them to empathize with those who are harassed? Why does no one seem to know any harassers personally, but on the other hand they seem so quick to defend them?



Things I wish I'd done better in retrospect:

1) Asked for ground rules about cross talk
The discussion facilitator was very careful about trying to create a safe space. I wished I'd asked for ground rules in the opening about having my experiences questioned in certain ways. I wasn't sure how to frame that, and I kept silent when I shouldn't have.

2) Discussed race
My experiences of harassment are closely tied to race. I hinted around this, but I was much too delicate about it. In particular, I should have mentioned that I was harassed very frequently while out with a dark-skinned Colombian girlfriend, and almost never while dating a tall white woman. My skin tone can change a lot due to all sorts of factors, but I definitely get harassed more when I am browner.

Conversely, I have been harassed by men of all ethnicities. However, at one point someone suggested a street harassment law. I said that idea worried me because it might be applied unfairly. I should have come out and said that I was worried it would be applied only to dark-skinned men.

3) Challenged hurtful narratives more directly and pointed out contradictions more clearly
I wish I'd been able to describe more clearly some of the things I've said in this post. I wish I'd asked people why they were so invested in defending harassers and minimizing my experience. I wish I'd been a bit sharper with what I said.

One of the things that's still bothering me about this, though, is how much work this winds up being for me. I woke up early this morning, on edge, going over everything I'd said, processing my experiences all over again, critiquing the ways I'd expressed myself or hadn't. I might feel better if I knew a lot of people stayed in the discussion that way, but I have a sinking suspicion that this labor was loaded more onto me and the other person who'd experienced a lot of harassment.

I'm upset when I think about all the work that can come with receiving a certain sort of hurt. Not only do I have to deal with the hurt, I have to deal with all these repercussions of it, other people's feelings about it, and on and on forever. I'm angry about other people's ability to walk away from it, and the casual way they can knock me over (metaphorically) and then put it behind them while I'm still trying to get back up.

The Mark and the Caul: A Sexy Part

There's a cool thing that happens when it takes a story a very long time to get published. By the time it's out, I get to read it fresh, as surprised as the reader might be. So I checked out my story "The Mark and the Caul," which recently came out in Sacchi Green's Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms: Erotic Lesbian Fairy Tales, and I got to remember some of the things I enjoyed about writing this story.

The princess, Lucinda, has been told all her life that she's disfigured, and it takes her a while to trust her lover, Sam, with her body. I always find tentative explorations hot, and I also really enjoyed writing about how Lucinda and Sam navigate Lucinda's insecurities. Here's one of their early sex scenes:

"May I touch you?" Lucinda asked.

"You may do with me as you please."

Lucinda stepped close. At first, despite her question, she touched only with eyes, her fingers too timid to bridge the gap between them. When she lifted a hand at last, she flitted it around Sam's body like a butterfly too skittish to alight. Feeling ridiculous, she brought a fingertip to rest on the blunt tip of Sam's broad nose.

They both froze, and then Sam laughed, and the sound freed Lucinda to gather her wife into her arms more boldly. She learned the shapes of Sam's shoulder blades, the curve of her spine, and the solidity of her hips. She tucked Sam's muscular buttocks into the palms of her hands, but the powerful response in her body alarmed her and she retreated to Sam's elbows. Lucinda, however, could not resist stroking upward from there, outlining her wife's upper arms, which were strong and thick from helping the miller.

This supposedly less intimate territory still made Lucinda's stomach flutter. She rested the side of her face between Sam's breasts, barely trusting her legs to hold her up. Wrapping one arm around Sam's back, Lucinda allowed her other hand to wander to the hollow of Sam's throat, over the point of one taut breast, along the side of her rib cage, and finally, between her legs.

"Moon above and river below," Sam cursed.

Lucinda smiled at the reaction and petted the damp hair that grew over Sam's pubis. She knew the pleasure her own body yielded when she explored this place. "There is a river below indeed. I feel the signs of its presence, though I have not found it yet."

Sam widened her stance. "You seem clever enough to track it."

"You will not be able to remain standing under the force of its waters once I make them flow," Lucinda said. She led her wife to her bed and helped her in. Then she rubbed the top of one of Sam's thighs, as if she were a great mill horse in need of steadying. Slowly, Lucinda parted her wife's lower lips, revealing the extent of her wetness.

"Ah," Sam sighed. "You've found it."

"I've found the path that leads there." Lucinda began a thorough examination of the territory, at first simply stroking and discovering, then later responding to the hiss of Sam's breath and the catches in her throat. She trapped sensitive flesh between her first two fingers, squeezing lightly, tugging, and rolling.

Sam gave a full-throated cry, and her firm body became rigid and hard beneath Lucinda's touch. Pleasure shattered off her and pounded through the room, rolling from Sam's body in waves that Lucinda could feel at her temples. Sam gasped, and finally caught her breath. "My mother told me the pleasures of the marriage bed were not for women," she said at last. "I've never known her to be wrong before, and yet I can imagine nothing sweeter than what you have done to me."

Lucinda stretched out beside Sam, still in her clothes. She slipped her hand beneath her veil so she could inhale Sam's scent, and shivered all over at the spice of it. "It heartens me to hear this from you. I was always told that it would hurt."

Sam clutched Lucinda fiercely. "I swear I'll never hurt you."

"I know you won't."

"Will you let me please you, too?"

Lucinda drew a deep breath. "Soon," she promised. "But not yet."

Sam nodded and held her, and the two women whispered secrets to each other.

If you'd like to read the rest, you can pick up the book here.

An Excerpt from Dear Kim

This time at Oh Get a Grip, we're talking about The Uncanny. I took the opportunity to share an excerpt from "Dear Kim," which is one of the stories I'm proudest of having written. At The Grip, you can read about some of the truth behind "Dear Kim," and then read a bit of the story. If you like what you see, I've got links at the end which will lead you to a free audio version of the story, and to Like a Chill Down Your Spine, the book it was published in.

Here's a taste of the post:

So while the uncanny part is invented (I never saw these ghosts or experienced them that way), so much of the story seems absolutely true to me when I think about it.

I have a friend who says (I’m paraphrasing) that writing speculative fiction is a way of making your metaphors very literal, and I think that’s true for me here. I am haunted, emotionally, by the friends I’ve had who inspired Kim. I am haunted, emotionally, by unacknowledged feelings and regret. And in “Dear Kim,” I turned that haunting into an uncanny truth rather than a psychological one.

***

You can read the whole post here.

Calls for Submissions: Circlet Press

My friends at Circlet Press have posted two interesting new calls for submissions!

First up is Mollie Wolfe's call for erotic stories about sexual and nonverbal healing, due June 15th. This has the makings of a very powerful anthology, and I'm going to be thinking a lot about what would make a good story for it. Several stories I've read in the past on this theme come to mind as among the most moving erotic stories I've read. I'm thinking specifically about some of the work in Xan West's Show Yourself to Me anthology, and also several stories by Janine Ashbless and Shanna Germain.

On the rollicking good time front, we have Jen Blackmore's call for Golden Age Erotica, which she describes as "erotic Indiana Jones!" Jen Blackmore is a master of coming up with themes that get me excited, then following through with great anthologies. I can't wait to write for this one, and I can't wait to read it. Deadline is July 1st.

Also, don't forget my submission call (not for Circlet), for stories about HSV+ characters for the charity anthology Positively Sexy. You can find more information about that here. The deadline is Monday, May 22nd, but if you're just learning about this now and have a great idea, please don't hesitate to get in touch. We can work something out!