Hi Everyone,
Just a quick break from Superbowl preparations to let you know my blog has moved!! It is now more fully integrated into my website and moved over to WordPress, two goals I've wanted to achieve for some time now. The new address is
www.lynettemejia.com/wp
Make sure to update your bookmarks and rss feeds!
Moving Day
Photo of the Day
Rose, "Ebb Tide" - to remind you that the wheel is, indeed, turning.
This work by Lynette Mejía is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.
05 February 2010
Meet Leo
As of the week after Thanksgiving, we are now the proud humans of another cat. Yes, for those counting, this makes four. Yes, I know I am well on my way to crazy cat lady status. But I swear, four is it. Really.
He's gorgeous, with thick, fluffy orange and white fur and the biggest, darkest green eyes you've ever seen. He's also sweet, and affectionate, and is absolutely fascinated by the giant box in the living room that shows moving pictures. Every night he plops down on the rug in front of it and watches television right along with the humans. Sometimes he falls asleep, though. You can't ever really tell when the impulse to nap will hit.
I had seen him around the neighborhood a couple of times, skittering under cars parked in my neighbor's driveway. One night in mid-October I came home to find him sitting outside my garage, with a look on his face that said, What took you so long? He looked hungry, and scared, so I brought him a bowl of cat food and left it outside. After about ten minutes he realized I wasn't going to throw a rock at him and so, tentatively, he made his way over, eventually purring and allowing me to pet that luxurious, thick fur. After a while I went inside, and he went his own way as well.
A few days later I walked into the kitchen to find this:
Now, I tell you, who can resist that face? I tried, believe me. The LOML said, "You can't be serious. We have three cats already. I know he's pretty and all, but come on, baby. He's a stray. He's probably infested with fleas, and mites, and who knows what." Logically, I knew he was right. So, I put out a bowl of food again, and left him out.
And he returned, of course. That cat chow business is much tastier and easier to catch than birds and mice. He came back, each and every day, to stare in the window just like that. Sometimes he'd come at night too, just sitting there, not meowing, just watching, just waiting.
And of course, bit by bit, day by day, my heart melted. Finally, on Thanksgiving Day, after he'd been sitting there for most of the afternoon, the LOML looked at me and said, "Yeah, ok, I know, he's going to be our new cat. He is pretty cute." I named him Ginger Cat, tentatively, for I loved the warm color of his coat, and we didn't know his sex at the time.
The next day, I bundled him up in the cat carrier and took him to the vet. Turns out he is a boy, neutered, and so possibly belonging to someone at one time. No tags, no microchip, just a ragged ear long-healed, which indicated he'd been on his own a good while. About two years old. In reasonably good health, minus the usual flea and mite issues and a slight ear infection, which was easily cleared up.
The first few days inside he was nervous, as can be expected, hiding from the other cats who COULD NOT BELIEVE I HAD THE NERVE TO BRING ANOTHER CAT IN HERE, hissing at him whenever an opportunity presented itself. Over time, though, as cats do, they got too lazy not to get along, so they began to accept him, and everything chilled out.
We originally named him Morris, because he looked so much like that famous television cat. Somehow, though, it just didn't fit. He didn't have a Morris personality. He wasn't aloof, or grumpy in the least. He was sweet, affectionate, and loved to play. He's a big boy, though, and his coloring and features seemed somehow more leonine than most house cats, so....Leo it became.
These days, Leo has adapted nicely to an indoor life. He spends a lot of his time doing this:
And alot of this:
And some of this:
And nowadays, when I open the door to the backyard, and I look behind me to make sure none of the cats get out, Leo is sitting there, in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring at me with a look that seems to say, Outside? No, thank you, human, I'm fine right here.
And so, four cats.
In related news, here is the downside to becoming so emotionally attached to your pets - when it's time to say goodbye. Neil Gaiman's cat Zoe is dying, and he wrote a beautiful blog post tribute to her here. Having lost two cats a couple of years ago, I can relate. Saying farewell is so hard.
22 January 2010
"Becoming"
In case you missed the announcement the first time around, my story "Becoming" is now live at The Absent Willow Review. It's a fantasy piece, about a beautiful fairy named Elinor who is unhappy because she can only see her flaws when she looks in the mirror. If you've ever loved someone enough to try and change everything you are, check it out.
21 January 2010
Welcome, Pansies!
I'm so happy that I live where I do. Today, it was actually warm enough for me to wear shorts as I did my daily gardening chores. When I trimmed away the freeze damage from my perennials, I noticed little shoots of green beginning to poke up from the soil. The world is waking up again, slowly. In another couple of weeks, the daffodils, pansies, and snapdragons will come into their own. Soon after, the azaleas will bloom and the trees will start to bud out. I can't wait. I come alive again along with the Earth. We'll see a few more weeks of on-and-off cold weather I'm sure, perhaps even a couple more light freezes, but still, it's coming, and it lifts my spirits. I'm not sure I could live in a place where there are snows into April. I'd probably end up pulling a Jack Torrance.
Also, I finally got back to work on the novel today. The plot is coming together so quickly I have a hard time getting it down fast enough. I'm furiously scribbling notes as I write, hoping I don't forget anything. The notes are starting to form a little nest, however. I need to organize them, maybe by chapter, or by character. I think I'll work on that tonight.
In any case, I'm working, the sun is shining, and Persephone is coming home. Can't get much better than that.
Red Sky at Morning
Storms predicted to move in later today. Oddly enough, this thought is calming to me. I love nasty weather. A warm cup of cocoa, out on my back porch to watch the lightning flash across the sky - I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon.
I'll be offline for most of the day today, for upgrades in the hardware and software on my desktop. I may pop in via laptop from time to time, but it's doubtful. Most likely I'll be so frustrated that I'll end up screaming and wanting to throw every electronic device I own out the window. On the other hand, maybe it will all proceed as smooth as freshly churned butter and everything will be fine. Yeah, right.
Anyway, enjoy your day, oh interwebs. It's Friday, after all, and a storm's comin'.
15 January 2010
Every Single One of Us, The Devil Inside
48 degrees this morning, a virtual heat wave compared to what is forecast for tonight and tomorrow, when temperatures are expected to reach into the teens overnight. Tomorrow we're not predicted to rise above freezing all day, something that hasn't happened since the mid-1990's. I took a short walk in my garden this morning, deadheading a few roses and pulling up some broccoli plants gone to seed. Nothing really to do until the temperature rises again this weekend, however, when I can damage assess and begin cleanup.
It's been odd here the last few days, as the LOML is off to exotic Singapore on business. I'm lonely for him as always when is away, but my sister is visiting, and her presence has taken up at least some of the vacuum of silence that settles in whenever he is gone. We are watching old movies and chittering like two little girls again, and I've enjoyed it immensely.
I'm reading a biography of Truman Capote, something I never thought I'd pick up. Somehow, he fascinates me. I think this has more to do with his personality than his writing, which I find good, but not necessarily awe-inspiring. What I do find interesting, however, is that he was never ashamed of who he was, never tried to hide his uniqueness. He never tried to fit in with the conventions of his time - in fact, just the opposite - and that quality is what drew people to him, I believe. He was brave, outlandish, and completely at ease with himself, in a time when homosexuality was, in many places, still a crime. It wasn't the kind of courage required to protest in the streets or write letters to the editors of newspapers - it was the kind of courage necessary to completely be one's self day in and day out, and damn the consequences, and it worked spectacularly for him. We should all strive to be a little more Truman-esque, I believe, to cultivate our unique qualities and never be ashamed of who or what we are. We might all find ourselves a little more tolerant of others if we did.
Ok, well that's your combination book review/soapbox rant for the day. I'm off to write, gather some more materials for my graduate school application, and (hopefully) find some time to enjoy the rainy, dark weather.
A couple more pictures from the garden walk this morning:
07 January 2010
Onward and Upward
I love New Year's Day. It's meaningless, I know, a symbolic transition, but really, when you think about it, symbols and rituals are the markers of our lives: birthdays, the turning of the seasons, traditions and memories that pass us gently from one stage of our lives to the next. For me, by the time Christmas rolls around, the year feels tired and worn out, and so do I. New Year's Day gives me a fresh start, a zero point at which I can draw a line and step across. Maybe it's nothing more than a psychological crutch, but I look forward to it every year.
New Year's Eve here was relatively quiet. Being from south Louisiana, we only had to stroll next door for some great food cooked by my neighbor. We sat around, drinking and eating smoked turkey and andouille gumbo while the kids lit sparklers and laughed in the cold, crisp air. We live outside city limits, so such things are allowed. At midnight, we listened and watched as a barrage of explosions and lights lit up the night sky for at least 15 to 20 minutes. When it was over there was only silence, and the cold, clear darkness. I kissed my husband, the love of my life, and hugged my children. I laughed with my sister. It was a good day.
My hopes for the new year are the same as ever - finish the novel, at last; lose that weight that's been creeping up on me for the last ten years. This year, however, I'm adding a new goal - starting grad school. It's something I always assumed I'd do, someday, and now I am old enough to realize that 'someday' is a concept that is rapidly slipping through my fingers. Life is to be lived, carpe diem as the dead Romans say. Memento Mori. Make 2010 a year in which you do something, instead of a year in which things are done to you. Be alive.
Here's to new beginnings.
02 January 2010
Time Keeps on Slipping Into the Future
Another day off the grid. There seem to be a lot of those this time of year. I'm juggling a lot, and the cracks are starting to show. No writing is getting done, which hurts, but there's no help for it. Sometimes things take priority. Taking care of my children, being there for every sniffle, every school project, every tantrum and sleepless night, is a decision I made long ago. They'll be grown and gone one day and I'll sit here in the silence and wonder where the time went. While I have it, the words will have to wait.
In other news, rain has arrived in Louisiana. After a year of droughts and hot, dry weather, in October the skies opened up, and in the last month or so have made up some serious ground. As I write this various areas of the state have received anywhere between three and eight inches of rain, with more on the way. Flood watches and warnings have been posted just about everywhere. In my backyard, we are now the proud owners of a stream. Welcome, stream. Do not grow any larger, please.
All of this bad weather and holiday madness has also meant I haven't had much time to spend at the renovation project. It's killing me, as I've grown very attached to the place again after all these years, and I've very much enjoyed the process so far of renewing and remaking the place where I spent my childhood. It's also been an opportunity for my sister and I to reconnect, something that was long overdue.
One thing was accomplished, however - we've chosen a name. No longer the renovation project, now I give you: Arcadia Farm. A few days ago I registered us as a National Wildlife Foundation home habitat, and as part of the process you're required to give a name to the property. We had been playing around with Arcadia for a while, and after some more debate and suggestions we settled on adding Farm to it. No, it's not a farm now. But, it could be, one day. One day.
The LOML and I are taking the GRE on Saturday, in preparation for heading to grad school in the fall. My goal is a PhD in Creative Writing and Folklore. The plan is to take it slow, but every journey starts with a step, does it not? And so here is my step. Why am I doing it? Partly to become a better writer, to hone my craft and research topics that interest me. Partly because I just love to learn, and I miss academia. Partly because it would be nice to have a backup career. And partly because it's been a bucket list item of mine for a very long time, and, like it or not, we are all steadily marching towards that bucket.
So, it's off to study (wow, are my math skills outdated), and wrap presents, and wipe runny noses, and reminisce of antediluvian days.
Every year is getting shorter
Never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines ...
11 December 2009
The Greenhouse Project
As promised, here are pictures from the greenhouse project I completed on Thursday. Ok, maybe 'greenhouse' is being a bit generous. It's probably closer to 'rigged up plastic lean-to', but hey, at only $25 for supplies, I'm not complaining.
The impetus for this whole thing comes from the fact that I have lots of container plants. Lots of them. Many are tropical or semi-tropical in terms of cold tolerance. Now, in the north, that would mean bringing everything into a sheltered location for the duration of the season, but in Louisiana, when it can literally be 20°F one day and 70°F the next, it generally means hauling the whole mess in and out of the garage any time freezing weather threatens. As you can imagine, this is a HUGE pain. Every year I say I'm going to do something about it, but I never get around to it. This year, however, I was determined.
I started with some supplies I got at the local home improvement behemoth. Three 4' lengths of rebar, six 5' sections of of pvc pipe, a bag of L connectors, and approximately 250' of 4mil plastic sheeting along with a few tools: hammer, scissors, staple gun, and that most basic of all redneck home project supplies, duct tape.
Next, I pounded the rebar into the ground at roughly even intervals across from a section of my backyard fence that is already in a nicely sheltered area on the south side of my house. Over this I put three of the pvc pipes, and attached the L brackets at the top.
After this I started attaching the plastic sheeting. I covered the fence, attached the other three lengths of pvc to rest on the fence supports and act as a roof, then covered the remaining two sides, securing it to the ground with heavy cement blocks so that I can lift the sides up on warm days to allow for air circulation.
Next I added some cheap plastic shelving and started filling it with plants. I believe on final count the thing ended up being roughly 8'X6'X6', enough to handle all my plants, but just barely. I think next year I may have to go a little bigger.
Finally, with lots of duct tape and some creative scissoring, I managed to scrape together enough of the plastic sheeting that was left to cobble together some doors. I secured them with clips so that they, too, can be opened up on warm days, and then I strung old leftover Christmas lights over the plants inside, to add just a little more warmth near the leaf surfaces.
So far, the thing has held up beautifully. We don't get ice and snow accumulations around here often, and though the LOML had to go outside Friday night a couple of times to sweep off the heavy ice that was building up on the roof, I think the thing will work beautifully for its intended purpose - a place my beautiful tropicals can overwinter without being such a pain. The location is perfect, close to a water spigot and a power source, so other than a little watering now and then we should be good to go. As I said, it wouldn't hold up to the punishing winters up north, but for my purposes, I'd definitely say it was a success.
06 December 2009
Welcome to England, He Said
Can't seem to get that song out of my head today. It's Tori Amos, in case you're interested. You better bring your own sun, sweet girl. I love Tori. Amazing artist. I saw her once, in concert at the Varsity Theatre, not long after it opened (I'm dating myself here), in Baton Rouge. Her first real tour, in support of her debut, Little Earthquakes. Unbelieveable show. My small-town mind was absolutely blown as I watched her writhe and purr on that piano bench. My musical sensibilities changed that night, and I'm not sorry for it.
No writing today, but lots of thinking. Lots and lots of thinking. I think the book will be mostly on hold until after Thanksgiving. I might be able to get something down tomorrow, perhaps again Thursday. After that, though, it's mad dash to grocery shop, clean the house, and feed the masses.
A couple of links. First, John Ottinger over at Grasping For the Wind has compiled an interesting list of Sci-Fi/Fantasy book bloggers' responses to the question: What's the Worst Endings in Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror?
Second, don't forget that The Absent Willow Review's Anthology, The Best Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction 2009 is on sale now here. It contains my story, "The Last Fairy Tale," one I'm quite proud of, as it were. Also, something I hadn't thought of until a friend mentioned it today: I'm more than happy to sign copies of the book for anyone who requests. Just contact me via private email and I'll send you the shipping address and particulars.
A picture of my roses up top, by the way. Just for the hell of it.
17 November 2009
In and Out of Weeks
And I have been. Time passes quickly for me during the fall, though in some strange way my mind seems to slow down somewhat. I haven't written anything of consequence in about two or three weeks, though I *have* been busy. Life takes over sometimes, and pushes away the stories. They linger, however. They linger.
Lots to do with the kids, and outdoors. For those of you who live far away, in Louisiana, we sort of all come back to life in autumn. It is soooo hot here in July, August, and even most of September, that many of us kind of hibernate inside, hugging the air conditioner. In October and November, the air cools off, the humidity falls, and we venture out again. I've been on field trips, camping trips, and other fun adventures with my kids. I don't regret that the stories have to take a back seat right now. I'll pull them out again when the weather is too cold and wet to enjoy the outdoors once more. For now, I'm reveling in the beautiful weather we've been having.
Lots to do in the garden this time of year, as well. With the heat of summer gone, and the cold of winter on its way, the job is two-fold: Put to bed all the warm season perennials who need a good, thick blanket of mulch to make it through the winter, and plant all the cool season annuals that will keep the garden alive during the cold days to come. This means lots of pansies and snapdragons for me, as those are my two favorites. One sweet allysum, though I haven't historically had a lot of luck with that one. I'm even thinking of getting a small Leland cypress in a pot on the back patio and wrapping it with Christmas lights. We'll see, though...that may be a bit ambitious...
Busy day today. Laundry is overflowing, and must be dealt with. Groceries are depleted, and must be restocked. And later today, rain is coming, followed by a nice shot of cold air. *Sniff, Sniff* Do I smell gumbo?
16 November 2009
October 23, 2009
I've been somewhat remiss on working in journals lately. Autumn and Spring do that to me, I guess. I'm too busy getting things done to sit down and write about it. I haven't written in my personal, handwritten journal since this summer. I've learned, over many years of keeping journals, that I'm just not the sort to record every single thing that happens to me every single day. My dad was. He wrote something every day, even if it was just a quick weather and health report. I've found that I'm much more successful if I just write whenever I have the urge.
I have been busy, however. This week I finished "Father Patrice Hears Confession", my Louisiana werewolf story, polished it up a bit, and sent it out into the wild. Hopefully I'll get a sale on it before Christmas. We'll see.
Some news to report as well. I've decided to move this blog over to WordPress. I've been thinking about it for a while now, researching a bit and reading what other people who use it have to say, and I think it will be a nice fit for where I'd like to go with this blog. I imagine I'll keep this one live, as an archive, if nothing else. Of course I'll link back, and send out an announcement when I've made the change.
In the meantime, Autumn marches on, even down here in the semi-tropics. It's a bittersweet time for me - on the one hand I love the relief from the oppressive heat of August and September, but it's the start of the time when I'm cold (literally, my hands and feet are freezing) all the time. I can never seem to warm up in winter, no matter how many layers I pile on. It's a constant battle to keep my blood circulating to all my extremities properly. So, while I love the season, I hate the cold.
We do, I'd like to point out, get some beautiful fall color down here in Louisiana, despite what many think. We just get it much, much later than our neighbors to the north. Whereas their leaves begin to turn in September, we usually have to wait until November before things begin to get colorful around here. In the meantime I've been perusing garden blogs from more northern climes, hearing about early snowfalls and enjoying their beautiful foliage pictures. When our leaves begin to turn, I'll post some pictures of my own.
In the meantime, here are a few pictures of interesting mushrooms I snapped at the Renovation Project last weekend. We've had an unusually wet October around here - it's normally our driest month - and as a result, lots of interesting fungi have been sprouting up.
23 October 2009
in time of daffodils
in time of daffodils
in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why. remember how
in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)
in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if, remember yes
in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seeks(forgetting find)
and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me, remember me
- e.e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet
Thanks to Helen Yoest of Gardening With Confidence.
09 October 2009
Another One Bites the Dust
Goodbye, Necrography.
Got an email today informing me of the demise of yet another small print 'zine. I'd submitted to them in the past, but ended up pulling my story because the lag time was far, far too long...
I'm not sure what the formula for a successful start-up is, 'cause I've obviously got no experience in that area, but I will say that as a writer I was kind of offended when they announced their last-ditch survival effort a few weeks ago:
Because of this, we're implementing a new submission policy. It's very simple. If you buy a copy of Necrography, then submit your work, we guarantee it will be read and reviewed with the utmost attention and you'll get a quick and personal response in a very timely manner. If, however, you submit to Necrography without buying a copy, we can't guarantee we'll respond to your submission or even read it in the first place. This submission policy will be in place when (and if) we re-open submissions again.Now, I can appreciate a lack of money as much as the next starving artist, and I surely can imagine the pain of submissions that far outstrip advertising or subscription dollars, but this just didn't seem like a great idea to me. Sure enough, it pissed people off:
The move we made nearly a month ago, in regards to our tiered submissions triage, served only to anger a few of our writers and friends.In any case, there has to be a better way. I find it sad that small print 'zines have such a low survival rate, but the fact is, the world is changing. Short fiction is becoming an online format, pure and simple. People don't buy magazines for stories much anymore - if they buy stories in print at all, they buy them in anthology format. That's just reality.
However, I think it is true that as writers and readers, we should support the 'zines we expect to stay alive long enough to publish us. Small press magazines have a long history of teaching wanna be's how to write professionally, and I think that's especially true for genre writers. So, maybe we do have an obligation to subscribe as well as submit.
Brandon Bell has an interesting post on the subject, and his idea is to subscribe to three 'zines, to lend his support to venues that support his career as a writer. I can get behind that, I think. Updates to follow.
05 October 2009
Goodbye and Good Riddance
The hulking mass of rusting metal and tornado fodder that's been the bane of my existence all summer is finally gone. I'm extremely happy, because instead of the solution we expected, having to pay to get the thing towed away for scrap, someone actually took it - a man who plans to renovate it and give it to his sister who currently has nowhere to live. So, not only did we get rid of it, we recycled!
In celebration, we spent the day Saturday cleaning up the aftermath. The movers left the porch and its roof (second photo). The LOML dismantled the porch, but we're still up in the air about the roof section. The tin is still usable, so we put the whole thing off to the side, hoping some brilliant idea will come to us about how to use it. In the meantime, this area of the property looks sooooo much better.
September was the six month anniversary of the start of The Renovation Project, and so far I'm more than pleased with the results. We've reclaimed huge sections of the lawn and flower gardens, started on the wooded areas, and even done a little of the demo work on the house. For a project done on odd weekends and days off, I think we've made lots of good progress.
The novel is coming along nicely as well. Out of my literal mountain of notes and scene snippets, I have cobbled together three good chapters so far in draft one, and the words have come steadily every day. My goal is to finish a draft by the end of the year, but ideally I'd love to be done long before that. I'm thinking hard about doing NaNoWriMo again (yes, I love torture), so to be done at the end of this month would be great. We'll see, though. I'm not going to beat myself up over it - I've missed too many self-imposed deadlines to think that might work.
Rain, rain, rain since we got back home Saturday night, and I'm not complaining. Rain is good for contemplation. It cleanses the mind. And if there's one thing about me that's dirty, well...
'Til next time.
September 18, 2009
A little more traction this week, though not by much. I have managed 1600 more words on my new story, a werewolf tale called "Father Patrice Hears Confession." That title's subject to change, of course. It's what I'm calling it now, anyway.
What else has happened...let's see. I went to the Friends of the Lafayette Parish Public Library semi-annual book sale and picked up my usual sack or so of books. Didn't find as much as I normally do, unfortunately. It wasn't that there weren't a lot of books available, just not as much in the categories I'm interested in. Science Fiction and Fantasy take up one tiny table in the corner. Other speculative genres and horror are kind of spread around here and there. It's fun, a giant garage sale of books twice a year (and what bibliophile wouldn't love that) but I wish I could have found more in my favorite genres.
Yesterday I read "Brokeback Mountain", by Annie Proulx, from her collection Wyoming Stories. I wanted to read it for two reasons - one, because Annie Proulx is a master of beautiful prose and I wanted to study her style, and two, because I'm interested in including more GLBT characters in my own writing (my recent story "Becoming" being my first attempt). It was wonderful, of course, heart-achingly beautiful and poignant. It evoked a level of emotion in me that I hope to one day achieve in my own writing. The movie was wonderful, I loved it, but maybe because I'm a reader and a writer the short story - condensed, tightly written and powerful - had a much stronger impact on me. I think it's one I'll come back to.
Facebook continues to be interesting. Despite privacy concerns, it's been wonderful for connecting with people I thought were lost to me forever. Old friends, connections broken by life and circumstance, have been popping up everywhere. Makes me nostalgic for my old hometown, and for at least some parts of my childhood.
My son and I are working on growing some little pumpkins for Halloween, though I fear we may have planted the seeds too late. Today I found a female flower, little green baby pumpkin attached, so I hand-pollinated it. We'll see what happens. If push comes to shove, I'll buy a little pumpkin from the store and shove it among the leaves sometime in October. Hopefully he won't catch on that it's a big fake-o.
If you're of the liberal mindset and interested in politics, check out my friend Diane's website, The Wild, Wild Left. I've posted some essays there before, and hope to again eventually, but there are lots of good writers hanging out ranting about this or that. Caution, though - if you're conservative and looking for a scrap, you'll get one - they're pretty devoted over there.
In any case, off to write for a bit. The book sale is ongoing through Saturday, so I may sneak back over there in a little while. Shhh....don't tell anyone, ok?
Image © 2009, Lynette Mejia, all rights reserved
18 September 2009
Is District 9 Racist Against Nigerians?
I loved District 9. I'll admit, however, that I kept wondering throughout the whole thing why the gangster-types were all Nigerians. I figured there must be some kind of cultural reference I was missing. It bothered me somewhat, even though I still loved the movie. I think it had some important things to say about the nature of the "Other" and what it means to be human. We use that term as a synonym for kindness and mercy, but by and large I don't think humans tend to act in accordance with how we like to view ourselves.
In any case, I've been following some of the reactions to the same questions I had. One author who's blog I follow, Nnedi Okorafor, was very offended, and the whole Nigerian thing ruined the movie completely for her. Here is her post. And she's not the only one. There's been a lot of backlash on the internet by people who resent Nigerians being portrayed in such an unflattering light by the filmmakers. Some are calling for an apology by the film's director, Neill Blomkamp.
From Tola Onanuga at The Guardian UK, however, comes another perspective: Why District 9 Isn't Racist Against Nigerians. In it the author makes a case that the director portrayed the white corporate types and "MMU" employees as much more evil, that the film is intended to be a reflection of the inhumanity of all the humans in the story, and the evolution of the aliens from the ultimate "Other" to creatures who have more in common with us than we'd like to think.
Both of the above authors, by the way, are of Nigerian descent.
So what's the opinion here? Is District 9 racist? Are some humans deliberately set apart as "worse" than others?
I tend to think the originality of the story, the relevance to issues the whole world faces relating to race, and the superb film-making that went into the movie ultimately override any concerns I have about which human group is depicted as the most evil.
Still, though, it nags me...did it have to be Nigerians?
