The Queer, The White-ish, The Trash

I remember growing up, I was at Target with my mom. I cannot specifically remember how old I was, but I had recently become attached to the idea of watching all the "great" movies of my time. Standing in front of the DVD aisle, I knew that I wanted to buy something, but I wasn't sure what. My eyes were drawn to a shiny, gold DVD cover-- one advertising Hilary Swank's Oscar winning performance in Boys Don't Cry. I was fascinated by it... for some reason. In my young teenage years, I didn't know what this movie was about, but it had the prestige of being an Oscar winner, so I took a chance and I bought it.

Needless to say, I was not ready for what I saw. I was young, I was naive, and I did not anticipate the gritty underbelly of Southern living from this film. The performances from the film's two leads were astonishing and I admired the soundtrack, but it was not until years later that I recognized its impacts-- beyond its filmmaking merit. For the reading I conducted from Queer Popular Culture, Daniel Mudie Cunningham dissects a facet of queer media: Queer White Trash Cinema.

I was instantly struck by this concept. What did it even mean? And what about "white trash" was queer. Fortunately, Cunningham lays the groundwork for his article by arguing, "Queer lends itself to white trash, and vice versa, because both categories decenter and destabilize, prompting constant flux" (p. 169). Additionally, queer begins to cross multiple spectrums and work through different landscapes; both metaphorically and literally. It is about crossing boundaries, making people feel uncomfortable, and finding one's identity in the process.

The analysis draws on the work of three films: My Own Private Idaho, Postcards from America, and Boys Don't Cry. Because I have only seen the latter film, I chose to really notice the trends from that. However, I noticed that the themes present in one film were central to all three. What drew me into this reading was the notion of fragments to help highlight one's broken identity. I am currently writing a term paper about Barry Jenkins' film Moonlight, and how it uses these fragments to help piece together one's identity. In a way, Cunningham's article works to do the same. And there is no better way to talk about it than how it is presented through the road.

The highway presents possibility. All three films chronicle a queer loner, traveling the path before them. This is a metaphor, sure, but it also depicts the opportunity of the future and an escape from an abusive, hateful past. This idea still sits with me as I am writing this post. And then it became meta the more I thought about it. Think about it: we oftentimes indulge in cinema or television as a means to escape from our own wicked lives. It's a technique that helps us relate to someone fictional and unreal, someone who simultaneously knows our pain, but will also never truly know. At the same time, we are watching films where characters also attempt to escape their broken past.

White trash works to problematize texts that feature predominantly "white" characters. It is messy and flawed, and rewarding. What I love is that Cunningham is quick to point out that we WANT to look away from the goings-on in these stories; they are grotesque and strange beyond belief. But perhaps watching will give us clarity. Perhaps we can learn from these portrayals. Maybe I did not know that when I picked up Boys Don't Cry. But I certainly do now. There can be something therapeutic in the mess of our lives.