The sound of their own angry voices
Jan. 27th, 2020 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolorosa_12Today is the penultimate installment of this year's January talking meme, and wheatear asked me to talk about the trashiest piece of media that I love.
I have to preface this by saying that nothing is trash if it gives you joy and/or sparks fannish feelings, and media doesn't have to be high art or inspire critical acclaim to deserve the space it occupies in your brain. You feel what you feel about the stories that matter, and they don't have to be award-winning novels or considered must-watch prestige TV.
With that preamble out of the way, my answer to today's question is the glorious, messy, often quite terrible TV series Pretty Little Liars — or, specifically, its earliest two or three seasons. It suffered a sharp decline in quality about midway through, and eventually descended into such appalling transphobia that I honestly hesitate to recommend it to anyone, but at its best it was incredible.
It was also deeply silly, ridiculously soap operatic, and unapologetically aimed at teenage girls (hence, in part, its reputation as a frivolous piece of trash). But it took those girls — their fears, their friendships, their world online — seriously, and made them the centre of their own stories. It told the story of four friends who never really felt solid in their friendships with each other until the glue that held them together — their bullying, controlling, unknowable, enigma of a queen bee friend Ally — goes missing, and they begin being tormented by a shadowy cyberbully who knows all their damaging secrets. In the best, earlier seasons, Ally haunts the girls and the show, simultaneously there and not there, her disappearance a mystery, her presence in her four friends' lives still looming large and shaping their fears and actions. And, at the beginning at least, the show's story was one of abuse, power, and control, and the way teenage girls are disempowered by everyone around them, their very lives, secrets and bodies treated as if they do not belong to them. The only thing that will save them is to trust themselves, trust each other, and treat their lives and fears as if they matter. Heather Hogan, who wrote weekly recaps of the show, sums up my thoughts on why it mattered (to me, and as a story in general), on this specific recap:
If the show ultimately disappointed me, it was only because, at its best, it aspired to something, had something to say, and said it well, if melodramatically. I still love it a lot.
wheatear asked me to talk about the trashiest piece of media that I love.I have to preface this by saying that nothing is trash if it gives you joy and/or sparks fannish feelings, and media doesn't have to be high art or inspire critical acclaim to deserve the space it occupies in your brain. You feel what you feel about the stories that matter, and they don't have to be award-winning novels or considered must-watch prestige TV.
With that preamble out of the way, my answer to today's question is the glorious, messy, often quite terrible TV series Pretty Little Liars — or, specifically, its earliest two or three seasons. It suffered a sharp decline in quality about midway through, and eventually descended into such appalling transphobia that I honestly hesitate to recommend it to anyone, but at its best it was incredible.
It was also deeply silly, ridiculously soap operatic, and unapologetically aimed at teenage girls (hence, in part, its reputation as a frivolous piece of trash). But it took those girls — their fears, their friendships, their world online — seriously, and made them the centre of their own stories. It told the story of four friends who never really felt solid in their friendships with each other until the glue that held them together — their bullying, controlling, unknowable, enigma of a queen bee friend Ally — goes missing, and they begin being tormented by a shadowy cyberbully who knows all their damaging secrets. In the best, earlier seasons, Ally haunts the girls and the show, simultaneously there and not there, her disappearance a mystery, her presence in her four friends' lives still looming large and shaping their fears and actions. And, at the beginning at least, the show's story was one of abuse, power, and control, and the way teenage girls are disempowered by everyone around them, their very lives, secrets and bodies treated as if they do not belong to them. The only thing that will save them is to trust themselves, trust each other, and treat their lives and fears as if they matter. Heather Hogan, who wrote weekly recaps of the show, sums up my thoughts on why it mattered (to me, and as a story in general), on this specific recap:
[I]f there was such a thing as a television show grocery store, you’d find Pretty Little Liars on the junk food aisle, and the packaging would tell you it’s the story of four teenage girls who grab Fashion by the balls and kiss boys and tell lies and get the shit scared out of them on the regular. And that’s this scene right here on the surface. They all look hot as hell, two of them have guy troubles, someone creepy is knocking at the door. But the truth of this show, the truth of this scene, is that it’s about four young women who have been told from the very beginning that they don’t have any power. It’s what A tells them, it’s what the police tell them, it’s what their fathers tell them, over and over. No power over what happens to their bodies, their minds, their actual lives. On the best days, it’s, “You girls hush and behave while the big, strong men figure out what to do.” (Wilden.) And on the worst days, it’s, “I made you, and so even your most personal business, your very sexuality belongs to me.” (Byron.) Right? And but these four girls, they said no to being victims, no to being powerless, no being tricked into hating their bodies and their desires and the sound of their own angry voices. Whatever else is going on inside their love for one another — whether it’s Spencer shutting down and pulling away or Aria catching Avian Flu from her own earrings — they stand together and refuse to apologize for the space they take up in the world.
If the show ultimately disappointed me, it was only because, at its best, it aspired to something, had something to say, and said it well, if melodramatically. I still love it a lot.