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Spooky Times
Fears that inspire action
Julie Jones
October 31, 2024
On Tuesday, November 8th, 2016, I sat in the Upright Citizens Brigade black box theatre to watch a handful of unknown NYC comics parody news commentators, announcing real-time election results as each state tallied votes. Earlier that day I cast my ballot, signed with a tiny dot of a tear, proud that I had done my part in democracy. To savor the moment, I walked 80 blocks from my UWS polling station to the quaint Chelsea theatre. I smiled knowing I would spend the evening reveling as the first woman was elected U.S. President.
What happened, of course, was not that. Instead, as more and more states lit up red on the tattered projector screen, comedians lifted the veil of satire, house lights came up, and we all sat dumbstruck. One comic asked if it would be helpful to pass the mic around and express whatever emotions were bubbling. For the next 3 hours, audience members and comics alike cried and snotted and shouted into a shared handheld amplifier, recounting experiences of sexual abuse and journeys to seek refuge and medical care that saved lives. One young girl said simply, “I’m scared.”
In 2016, I believed it impossible for someone as dangerous as Donald Trump to get elected in America. In 2024, I understand how possible it is.
The following are a few reasons I’ll be casting my ballot for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz and some hearty snacks that have helped shape my why’s.
Award-winning filmmakers Sean Fine and Andrea Nix document the events of January 6th in a way that does not just resonate, it stuns. Though there are dozens of Jan 6th docs, The Sixth illustrates the emotional impact of that day on an individual level. The harrowing experience is told through the lens of Congressman Jamie Raskin, press photographer Mel D. Cole, congressional staffer Erica Loewe, police chief Robert Contee, as well as police officers Daniel Hodges and Christina Laury. Aside from a few new logistical details, there are no revelatory facts in the film. But the willingness of these 6 public servants to share their heartbreak in those unprecedented hours makes Trump’s painful threat to democracy tangible.
Emotional. Visceral. Searing.
The irony, and power, of many climate pieces is that the breathtaking visual backdrop is frequently the very thing at stake. This holds true for Nobody Dies in Longyearbyen. Set in the world’s northernmost city, where piercing white-caps slope into glistening glaciers, filmmaker David Fried investigates the claim that it is illegal to die in Longyearbyen. What he discovers is that the melting of picturesque landscapes in the tundra has implications far more macabre than you’d imagine. This 9-minute journey is puckish and dynamic and ends on a frigid note that reveals the climate threat right under our frost-bitten noses.
Playful. Informative. Chilling.
I will admit something that stays buried in the depths of my gut, an indoctrinated notion that goes against my experience and reason, a dark slimy hum of antiquated fear: I feel conflicted about abortion. In the case of rape, incest, or the health of the mother, I have no contest. But when an adult consenting woman is in need of an abortion, the tormented whispers of my upbringing stir my constitution.
“Adult decisions have adult outcomes.”
“A baby’s life is more precious than anything.”
“Motherhood is the single most fulfilling job in the world.”
I am horrified by these internal voices that attempt to rattle my conviction. But it is brave women like those in Undue Motherhood that ground me, emphasizing that getting pregnant and the ensuing life as a mother are profoundly complicated.
Diana Karklin’s collection of stories exposes the life-altering impacts of societal pressures on women to become mothers. The packaging is an art piece itself, the interviews of 7 women told in individual floral-clad booklets enveloped in a steely slipcase. Despite distinctly unique stories from around the world, the women share the biting realty of unending love for their children while battling definitive regret. Through life-long expectations, coercion, and even violence, these women have found themselves standing alone, robbed of their livelihood, and abandoned by the men that placed them there. The candor of the imagery and interviews encourages a fight for bodily autonomy, because a life without purpose is no life at all.
Daring. Pithy. Revealing.
Short listed for the 2022 Oscars, Marianne Farley’s quiet thriller portrays a woman’s devastating experience in a world where abortion is illegal. Desperation leads to an illegal mobile abortion clinic, where a box truck full of swaying raw meat reminds us that this woman has about as much sovereignty as the butchered caracasses that surround her. Throughout the 20-minute short, gutting performances and slicing twists pull the edges of terror taut. Frimas, translated in English to “frost”, renders a cold reality that seems all too near.
Raw. Haunting. Foreboding.
From the warped minds of Vic Berger and Oliver Noble, in collaboration with Chapo Trap House, comes a nightmarish behind-the-scenes look at the going-on’s of Mar-a-Lago. I laughed in spite of myself (the point), and was repulsed by the grotesque patina of Trumpian social life (also the point.) If you’re not ready to dive into our potential terrifying reality, start with this surreal depiction of Trump’s weirdness.
Really. Fucking. Unsettling.
Snack: Drunken Beans
I rang in the 2021 new year in a misty mid-level hotel room overlooking downtown Atlanta. As I remember it, I had a single glass of wine and was asleep before midnight with the TV still murmuring in the background. The following 6 days I volunteered for the Ossoff / Warnock campaign helping to cure votes that had not been properly executed. The days were long but sweet, kind Georgians often welcoming me into their homes and offering me something to eat, grateful they had a second chance to make their votes count. One of the constituents I met told me about Manuel’s Tavern, a historic bar where influential democratic party members have been meeting since 1956. It sounded like a special place, but this was at a time when the transmission of COVID still seemed unclear and a vaccine was months away. So I slipped the name in the back pocket of my mind, and thanked him for his suggestion. After my final day volunteering, as I drove back to my stiff little rented twin bed and 3ft couch, Manuel’s giant hand-painted sign caught my eye. It was almost noon, Ossoff and Warnock numbers were looking good, and the official confirmation of a Biden presidency was underway. I decided to go in.
The bartender saw my volunteer pin and offered me a drink. I declined, already buzzy with efforts that were leading to a democratic success. I sat feeling contented as I watched the multiple TVs set to multiple news outlets all saying the same thing: we won. Suddenly, the tickle of hope was sliced by an urgent report of the capitol under siege. The whole bar froze. I uncharacteristically flagged down the bartender and asked if I could still take that drink. Sitting feet away from where Carter announced his gubernatorial campaign and Obama threw darts, I watched a mob of domestic terrorists threaten the lives of the very people they claimed to support. For the following 12 hours (or more? it’s real fuzzy) Georgia democrats and out-of-state volunteers tumbled into the bar, wet eyes fixed on the closest TVs, everyone told to pour themself the alcohol they needed, grown men wept, young women stood rigid, a man in a suit across from me repeatedly dialed his phone and cradled his head when, hours later, he gave up. My only solid recollection from the end of that night was a cohort of older men and women making sure everyone got into a cab or a carpool to get home safely. I woke up with a hangover not just from the free alcohol, but also from the deja vu. A pride in democracy suddenly decaying into shock and disgust. And yet, there was hope: our most vile human traits offset by the willingness to take care of each other.
Hearty. Savory. Rich.
Soak about 3 cups dried beans (traditionally pinto) overnight. If you have trouble sleeping because of the crushing anxiety of life, imagine you are a little bean soaking in silence.
With the news blaring, brown a dollop of butter in a pan.
Once the butter is golden and fragrant sauté 1 chopped onion, a handful of chopped garlic, and a couple chopped spicy peppers until tender.
Add in 3 chopped tomatoes and let brown for a few minutes while scraping any crunchy bits.
Add in your beans with enough soaking liquid + stock to cover and a splash of spices like paprika, dried oregano, bay leaves, black pepper, cumin, salt.
Bring to a boil then simmer for about an hour making sure to add more liquid if the level drops below the beans.
Has the news started getting stressful? While beans simmer, crack open a beer.
Once the beans are tender, pour one out for all the people that fought and continue to fight for the right to vote. Like actually, pour an entire beer into the pot, and simmer about 30 minutes until beans are soft and creamy.
Add in some fresh cilantro, a squeeze of lemon, and walk hand-in-hand with someone you love even if you don’t always agree and go straight to the polls.
I understand that the Harris / Walz ticket is far from perfect. I understand that the Democratic Party is far from perfect. I understand that the state of politics writ large is painfully, vastly, far from perfect. But I do believe that the Democratic Party is based on the principle that it is our duty as humans to take care of each other. And as I see it, if we can elect officials touting that principle, then we have a fighting chance to hold officials to that standard.
If you see it differently, I hope you still vote. Your voice matters, and is strengthened by knowledge. So take a chance to review what’s on your ballot this election by searching “sample ballot” + your state. NYC, I got you.
Willing to fight and willing to care,
<3 Julie
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