The enduring humanity of Wanda Maximoff

 This post contains spoilers for the series finale of "WandaVision," which aired March 5, 2021.

Dread it. Run from it. Grief arrives all the same.

Don't miss a moment of Marvel Studios' #WandaVision, now streaming on @DisneyPlus. pic.twitter.com/nq3j7ii6LP

— WandaVision (@wandavision) February 1, 2021

Wanda Maximoff has sat with grief more than anyone should have to in a lifetime. We get a front seat — both to her grief and her time processing it — in the penultimate episode of "WandaVision." After her parents’ death, we see her trapped under the rubble and then in her room at HYDRA, isolated and watching old shows to comfort herself, unable to escape her aching sadness. After her brother’s death, we never see his burial. And either way, Wanda is effectively imprisoned at New Avengers Facility, again sitting on a bed that isn’t hers as she watches TV, consumed by loss.

When Vision dies in "Infinity War", Wanda has a brief moment to come to peace with the fact he died to save the world before Thanos cruelly reverses time just to kill him again. There, Wanda has mere moments to grieve before being snapped out of existence, returning in "Endgame" to boost the Avengers against the Mad Titan.

There’s a funeral for Tony Stark and a bench thrown for Natasha Romanoff, but nothing for Vision. Wanda chooses not to hide from her grief but to confront it, first at SWORD headquarters and then in that empty lot in New Jersey. This is old hat for her at this point; we presume she didn’t get to see her parents’ bodies so she wants to see her love’s, to give herself some sense of closure. For once. So, she meets her grief head on. And it swallows her whole and takes a whole town with it.

For those of us without magic, grief manifests in less cinematic, but no less devastating ways. We grieve loved ones, relationships, friendships, careers, routines, and places. We grieve the loss of our good health, of a pet, of our childhood home. Grief has no blueprint for how or when it affects us. Some choose to hide it, only to have it come crashing in years later. Some choose to confront it, hoping to diminish it, and still feel as if they are exploding with the pain. It can reach out and affect every aspect of our lives — and the lives of those around us.

From the jump, I was wary of WandaVision. How many times in media have we encountered a powerful woman who became dangerous simply because she was emotional and “couldn’t control it” (Dany, Willow, Jean Grey, Elsa)? How many times have real women been pushed aside simply for expressing their feelings, dismissed as hormonal or crazy? Would this show about a powerful woman in the grip of grief be any different?

In some ways, yes. And in other ways, no. And I think that’s all right. Wanda Maximoff’s love for Vision created the Hex, but it wasn’t ultimately what broke that scarlet barrier. It was her humanity. It was the realization that her “perfect neighborhood” had so deeply traumatized the regular inhabitants of Westview, who were collectively grieving the loss of their autonomy and agency as they stepped towards her in the street. It was Dottie (Sarah), it seems, who really reached through Wanda’s grief with her own as she begged to be able to hold her little daughter. Perhaps this hit a nerve with Wanda, who was only a little older than Dottie’s daughter when she lost her own mother. And Wanda has a touching moment with Monica near the end of the episode where Monica tells her, with compassion in her eyes, that she would have done something similar if it meant bringing her mother back. It’s a reminder to Wanda that all of us grieve.

Well, maybe not ALL of us. As Vision told Wanda in episode 8, he does not know grief because he has not had anyone to lose. We see him experience joy, fear, surprise, anger, and love in the Hex — all human emotions, just as grief is a human emotion. Wanda may be some prophesied sorceress, yes, but she is still human. She showed that humanity by choosing to take down the Hex and allow the townsfolk to live freely again, effectively erasing her life with Vision and the twins. Yes, it was the right thing to do, and who knows how long the Hex had been active, but it still took strength and compassion to do — to expose her battered soul to more grief.

And before she loses Vision a third time, she tells him, “You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you’re my love.”

After all, what is grief if not love persevering?

Our failures, ourselves: Missing the World Cup

I am disappointed.

There is still an ache in the part of my heart that loves soccer, and loves my team, and I understand how our players must feel. I am disappointed for so many US Soccer servants who may never see a World Cup again: Bradley, Howard, Dempsey, Guzan, Beasley, Wondolowski, Zusi, Cameron, Bedoya, Jones and McCarty are all 30+ and could retire before Qatar in 2022. I am disappointed for my friend Donald and many members of American Outlaws who pour their heart and soul into following our USMNT around the country and across the water, who scream and cheer and push us to "believe that we will win." I am disappointed for the young players who missed two Olympics and will now miss a World Cup.

U.S. goalkeeper Tim Howard lies in the goal area after being scored upon by Trinidad and Tobago at a World Cup qualifying match at Ato Boldon Stadium in Couva, Trinidad and Tobago, Tuesday, Oct. 10, 2017. (AP Photo/Rebecca Blackwell)

I’m also angry. I have never played at a professional or international level, so I don’t understand how this happened, but I am pissed off. And who am I, even? Just a fan who wants to see the red, white, and blue tested against the world’s best. A fan who expects that, when our players put on that shirt, they know I am watching and they want to do right by me because I am an American, and they represent me on that field. They represent all of us. The USA shirt is heavy --but they know that every time they pull it on. They go to work. They make their money. They play under the floodlights, they see little kids wearing their name and number, they live out the childhood dreams of millions.

They carry the weight and expectations of a nation as they run across that green grass.

That weight is different now.

So, what happened? We can blame the loss on a lot of things. Cockiness. Lack of rest. Field conditions. Formation. Bruce Arena. Jurgen Klinsmann. Sunil Gulati. The referees. Our 2-1 loss to Trinidad is the focal point right now, but look back and see that this was of our own making. Of our games in the Hex, we won 3, tied 3, and lost 4. We didn’t deserve to go through. A tie in Trinidad or some goals in another match should not have shaped our destiny. We failed.

United States' Clint Dempsey reacts during a 2018 World Cup qualifying soccer match against Trinidad and Tobago in Couva, Trinidad, Tuesday, Oct. 10, 2017. (AP Photo/Rebecca Blackwell)

CONCACAF is not a surprise or a great mystery. Our players and other CONCACAF member players meet in the MLS weekly. We were crowned Gold Cup champions against these same opponents mere months ago. Before and after the Gold Cup, we failed to win our World Cup qualifiers in Costa Rica, Panama, Honduras, and Trinidad. Was the Gold Cup win (and our fourth place finish in Copa America the year before) because we only played on American soil in front of US Soccer faithful?

Why, then, did I stumble dumbly out of Columbus’s MAPFRE Stadium last November after a 2-1 loss to Mexico, freezing cold and covered in someone else’s beer, having seen the magic of “Dos a Cero” fail us? Why were we embarrassed in New Jersey in September, when Costa Rica put us down 2-0 in New Jersey? Bruce Arena can comment all he wants about how hard it is to qualify through CONCACAF. We proved his point this week, I suppose. Anyone can blame the field in Trinidad, can't they? Even as our US Women and our NWSL still struggle to get equal field condition footing with the men, on turf or on grass? Even as Belgium defeated Bosnia on a field that wasn't any better this week? Surely we didn’t lose because these US boys forgot how to get their boots wet, right?

Look, teams miss the Cup. Germany’s missed it. England’s missed it. The Netherlands aren’t going this year. It happens. It’s embarrassing. I hope the discussion among fans and pundits does not stop. The men’s game needs to be shocked into action. Why didn’t our young players qualify for the last two Olympics? They are the vanguard now, and they have missed out on three incredible opportunities to play at the highest level of competition. What will this team look like by then? Who will be the manager? Will we still be reliant on one man, one star who can shine abroad, one “secret” weapon we desperately can’t stop talking about? Will we see players like Brooks, Wood, Green, Johannsson, and Yedlin making bigger names for themselves outside of the MLS?

A thought on CP: We should not have to rely on the skills of one young man to pull us through. Pulisic is brilliant, and he is the future of US Soccer, but the entire weight of the country cannot sit on one teenager’s shoulders. We cannot expect him to pull us out of every situation, Messi-like, rising like a god to save our skins and do what everyone else on the pitch cannot. It is a heavy weight to bear. A team that revolves around and relies upon one player is not a team. Pulisic probably won’t go the way of Freddy Adu, our last young phenom, but it worries me how we look to him as a savior.

Perhaps Pulisic and some of our younger players are lucky. They have four years to get ready for this again. They have time to grow, and find success, and let this disappointment fester. They have time to crave the taste of WC competition, time to think about how to get there and breathe that rare air. So do we, the fans. So does the USSF. Nothing matters now but 2022. We need to be ready for it. The time starts now.

Books I've read in 2017: The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss

My name is Kvothe.

I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.

You may have heard of me.

I have read (and listened, via Audible) to a beautifully-wrought fantasy series by Patrick Rothfuss several times this year. A friend of mine introduced me in 2014 and I discovered the story of Kvothe slowly, reading the books off and on before finally being hooked. Now, I'm on my 5th re-read and discover a new piece of the puzzle every time.

I suppose that part of the series' appeal right now is that it is unfinished, and the depth of storytelling allows fans to analyze the intricate writing to try and speculate about Book 3. It's been 10 years since The Name of the Wind was published, and 6 since its sequel The Wise Man's Fear. We're still waiting on the third installment in the series, tentatively called The Doors of Stone. Through the expansive first few books, Rothfuss carefully crafts a world of magic, music, and myth.

Our hero Kvothe--or perhaps our antihero--was once regarded highly as a singer, swordsman, magician, genius, and overall legend. Now, he has fallen from public grace after starting a war, perhaps faked his own death, and now manages a quiet inn, a shadow of his former self. Rothfuss describes him at the beginning and end of each book as "a man who is waiting to die." It is the story of his life, told in his own words, from an idyllic childhood as a trouper to the murder of his parents by a mysterious group of people, to the University where he searches for answers to their death, and far beyond.

At the same time, the frame story reveals how dangerous the world has truly become, and how Kvothe blames himself for everything that happened.

I am not quite sure what I will read after I finish Wise Man's Fear for the fifth time. I may take a break. I may delve back in. Hopefully, if nothing else I've said so far has, this will be what convinces someone to give these a try--the fact that this series is worth that many rereads!

Click here for an excerpt of NotW from Pat Rothfuss' official site!

"The Weight of These Wings" review--finding peace and finding yourself

The lasting image of Miranda Lambert in many people's minds is the Miranda Lambert we met on her first two albums--the one who would burn a cheating ex's house down, kill an abusive husband, or fight an ex's new flame in a bar. But her more recent albums showed a steadier side, as she settled into a long relationship and began feeling comfortable in her own skin.

"Four the Record" definitely contained some sassy numbers ("Mama's Broken Heart," "Fastest Girl in Town"), but it also contained the heartbreaking "Over You," which she wrote with ex-husband Blake Shelton.

On "Platinum," we began to see how self-aware Lambert is of her celebrity status and of her role as a mentor to younger artists. She muses about aging ("Gravity's a Bitch,") about teen pregnancy ("Babies Making Babies,") about staying in a lasting celebrity marriage ("Priscilla,") and about the good ol' days growing up, when life was a little less hectic ("Automatic").

Here, on her sixth studio album "The Weight of These Wings," we find a woman who endured a very public heartbreak at the pinnacle of her career. We find a woman who was broken and who has dragged herself back into the light after what surely were some of her darkest days. We find a woman who, to borrow a phrase from Lin-Manuel Miranda, wrote her way out--and gave us a double album in the process.

The lead single, "Vice," should tell you enough--it's told from the perspective of a woman who is drinking, sleeping, and driving her way through her own personal hell. That theme continues, with hazy musings about living a vagabond life and spending too much time at bars, as the woman behind it all re-learns who she is and what she wants out of life.

In the buildup for the album, Lambert hasn't said much. There were no big sit-down interviews about who wronged who in her past relationship. Her Instagram is full of dog photos and musings about making music. She could have gone the old route, burning old bridges with glee and stopping to think about it later. But she's older now, and perhaps the temper has tempered--or perhaps she just doesn't think it's worth the effort to confront her demons with fire and steel.

(Photo: Daniela Federici via MirandaLambert.com)

"The Weight of These Wings" doesn't contain any collaborations with big names. It's a mostly subdued epic, a tour de force from someone who will be remembered as one of country music's greatest. It's raw and it's heavy at times, and you hear it in the way Lambert's voice breaks and soars over 24 tracks. It feels familiar to those of us who have ever been heartbroken. It feels like a smoky bar and a taxi and a morning sipping coffee on your front porch before the sun is up. It feels like waking up after a night wrestling with demons--unsure how you're going to move forward, but determined to do so however you can. 

What happened last night at the CMAs?

Man, I'll tell y'all what.

We were saved. 

Ok! I can finally talk about one of the greatest weeks of my life! Thank you @Beyonce ! You slay. All day! pic.twitter.com/XJCOrdweih

— Natalie Maines (@1NatalieMaines) November 3, 2016

The 50th anniversary of the CMAs offered country music an opportunity to dig deep into its (whitewashed) recent past and bring some of the genre's most storied names back on stage.

You almost forget about whiny pop-country acts like Luke Bryan, Florida-Georgia Line, and their ilk when Reba, Clint Black, George Strait, Alan Jackson, "Mr. and Mrs. Yearwood," and Randy Travis pop back out there and sing. It's a heartening reminder for those of us who feel like we are drowning in white boys in white t-shirts, embroidered jeans, and snapbacks. Dolly Parton picked up a lifetime achievement award. Garth Brooks won entertainer of the year. Randy Travis sang after his stroke. This was a good year.

And then Beyoncé G. Knowles-Carter showed up. And she brought the Dixie Chicks, whom country music hasn't really forgiven for bashing George Bush back in 2003.

Texas. 

Image Group LA/Getty Images

Even country music doesn't exist in a vacuum, so I'm sure this audience knows a few songs off of "Lemonade." We know Miranda Lambert does, and her love for her fellow Texan has been well-documented.

If you have been living under a rock, "Daddy Lessons" is a stomping, brass-led beauty of a song that touches upon some of country music's favorite standbys--guns, bad relationships, and advice from your daddy.

The online reaction was mixed. Celebrities and Beyhive members were floored, inspired, enthusiastic, and ready to crown Bey queen of Nashville.

Some country fans, however, were less than impressed--perhaps still smarting from Beyonce's purported anti-police views, they feel it was "disrespectful" for country music to welcome her to the stage. Simply wade into any of the posts on the CMA Facebook page, and there you have it.  

On the surface, some of the complaints are that Beyonce's music does not belong on this awards show. But any country music fan--or artist--who scowled during this crossover simply based on its musicality is kidding him or herself. How can you allow Taylor Swift back on stage in 2016, then, if country music is suddenly such a sacred entity? Why do we allow Luke Bryan and Florida-Georgia Line to infuse hip-hop, and even make call-outs to hip-hop, in their music, without batting an eye? How are Sam Hunt and Jason Aldean permitted to rap in their songs and still win awards? Aldean even has performed on stage with Ludacris! Nelly has re-done Thomas Rhett's "Die a Happy Man." And last year, Justin Timberlake (a southern boy, yes, but no country artist) sang on stage with Chris Stapleton at these very awards.

Suddenly, a black woman performing a country song on her album is such an egregious offense?

Surely, given all that country music has taken from hip-hop lately, this argument is null and void. And thus, we get to the heart of the argument--it's political at best, and racial at worst.

I think the Associated Press sums it up nicely (emphasis mine):

Not everyone was prepared to welcome Beyonce with open arms. "Let me have my country music in peace" wrote one critic on Twitter. Another suggested that whoever had invited her should be fired. Still another threatened: "I was going to watch, but not now." 

But many others sounded thrilled, including country singers Brad Paisley (who tweeted "Welcome") and Cassadee Pope (who said, "I'm gunna explode."). The CMAs have previously invited non-country artists before, as they did last year with Justin Timberlake.

Jennifer Nettles was just happy to hear the song: "Everybody loves the harmonies, loves the music. Don't get it twisted. It's about the music. If you make it about it about something else, you're wrong," she said after the show. 

Beyonce has been criticized by some for her half-time show at the Super Bowl that referenced the Black Lives Matter movement, Malcolm X and the Black Panthers, as well as her video for "Formation" that includes images of a hooded black child facing police and graffiti scrawled on a wall that reads "Stop Shooting Us."

The problem, if there is one, is not with country music. It's with its fans. As referenced above and in some earlier media coverage, country artists responded well to "Daddy Lessons."

The fans are the ones with a problem. The fans are the ones who can't let go of what Natalie Mains said in 2003. The fans are the ones who can't stomach someone on stage who feels differently than them. The fans, also, are the ones who continue to buy and request country crossover songs by Bryan, Aldean, Hunt, FGL, Chase Rice, and a whole host of other men desperate to cash in on the latest trend--appropriating a traditionally black sound for their traditionally white audience because it "sounds good."

Does it really sound good?  

If country music is looking to hip-hop, "Daddy Lessons" is the song to look to--and after all, let's not forget that the roots of country music run much deeper than the last 50 years with Dolly Parton. And, some of the original trailblazers look a lot different than the white-bread fellas and gals we see at every country awards show.

Freedom to lead

Five years ago I was at a conference in Washington for students interested in working towards peace in Darfur. It was then I first learned about Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel Peace Price-winning leader from Burma (Myanmar). I was inspired by her work to get her people out from under the heel of an oppressive military regime--millions of people displaced, ethnic oppression and intimidation, forced labor, sexual violence, etc.

A few days after the conference (2010), she was released from 15 years under house arrest for her work to bring democracy to the country.

A little over three years ago, I drove to Indiana to hear her speak and sat with hundreds of people from her home country who view her as a hero (as I do).

And in the past few days, Myanmar held elections, seen as the most democratic in 25 years.

Tonight, the AP reports that Daw Suu Kyi has won her seat in Parliament--note that she is not allowed to be president because the military specifically wrote a law to block her from the position. However, her party is expected to win most of the seats in the government.

This is a HUMONGOUS step for Burma and also a test for this new government, as hundreds of thousands of Rohingya Muslims are still persecuted in the largely Buddhist country (and have been blocked from voting).

I am incredibly happy to see the beginnings of change (assuming, of course, the military steps down and allows new leadership). I am also hopeful that the new government is representative of all people in Burma.

You are Cait. I am confused by your comments.

Dear Caitlyn:

Hi.

A very belated welcome to "the family," as I like to refer to other LGBTIQA folks. I can already tell that the conversation about transgender people is shifting because someone so famous is speaking out about her experience and her life.

I know you know all about family. You're part of a famous one! And even before Kris came along, you were in the public eye--girl, you've got an Olympic medal. You've been on a box of Wheaties. And now you are a public figure who has gone under an extraordinary and very brave transformation. It has warmed my heart to see how your children, your mom, your ex-wife and many others have supported and embraced you. Family can make or break you, as I'm sure you know.

Here's the thing about your new family.

There are a lot of us, first of all. Many may still be living in the closet for fear of rejection, persecution, or any other unpleasant thing that ends in -ion (execution comes to mind but I'm trying to keep this light).

Second of all, we don't always know what everyone else is going through. I don't know anything firsthand about transitioning. I try to learn, and I try to understand, and I try to advocate for the trans folks in my life and out there in the world.

I was a bit confused when you told Ellen your stance on gay marriage. It seems like you're...ah, I don't know, a bit lukewarm on gay marriage still?

CREDIT: The Ellen Show

You asked Ellen if the word "marriage" was the important thing. ...well, yeah, of course it is. We want the same rights as everyone else. I want to say I'm married to someone one day, not that I am legally bound by a court to share the same taxes.

I was also a bit baffled about your comments to Matt Lauer about that Halloween costume of you.

CREDIT: BizPac Review

It's pissed a lot of people off in the LGBT community--perhaps the same way that costumes of certain ethnicities do. Trans people aren't a costume, they say, and far too many people have been tortured and murdered for this to be even remotely acceptable. Far too many men are going to take that costume of you and make horribly transphobic comments.

You also chatted with Matt and assured him it was all right if he accidentally said something offensive--and you hinted that you're a little more chill than those activist folks out there.

So.

I don't think I'm the only one who is a bit confused. Up until now, you have enjoyed a very warm welcome from the LGBT fam. But some of us are indignant. In your TV show "I am Cait," you are able to control the narrative a bit more, but not necessarily in interviews.

And what I think has become clear is that you haven't spent enough time with the rest of the LGBT community or--dare I say it--your struggles have been a lot different.

I am NOT saying they are invalid. I know your identity is something you have struggled with for many of your 65 years.

I'm saying your struggles are not the norm, and that is skewing your perspective. I'm saying you are coming from a place of privilege (formerly male privilege) and you don't understand the community as a whole.

1. I think you're lucky to come from a loving family.

Here's a statistic: family rejection and discrimination and violence have contributed to a large number of transgender and other LGBQ-identified youth who are homeless in the United States – an estimated 20-40% of the more than 1.6 million homeless youth.

Outside of the youth part of it: The National Center for Transgender Equality says one in five transgender people has been homeless at some point in their lives.

Even if trans people are not kicked out of their homes, they have issues with their families accepting them.

2. I think you're lucky to have money at your disposal.

Every transition process is different. The Philadelphia Center for Transgender Surgery offers price estimates for MTF and FTM procedures. The prices are staggering--THOUSANDS. And that's just the surgery. Talking to doctors and taking HRT and buying new clothes and going to therapy presents, no doubt, a daunting sum even for someone like you.

3. I think you're lucky to be white.

Sixteen of the at least 20 LGBT people murdered in 2014 were people of color, according to the NCAVP; 11 were transgender women, and 10 were transgender women of color.

Not to mention white people are just much more privileged than minorities. Which I know you know, as you've lived more than 60 years as a rich white Republican dude. And which I also know, as I have lived my 25 years of life as a middle-class white girl.

4. I think you're lucky to live a comfortable life, when it comes down to it. 

Transgender women are being murdered at a disgusting rate. 

Transgender women are resorting to sex work to make ends meet. 

.....I know you are from another generation than I am. I know you have struggled. I know your life has not been easy.

But your experiences are far from universal--and there are much more common experiences in the trans community and the LGBT community as a whole. Being discriminated against. Being shunned by family and friends. Seeing disgusting transphobic and homophobic portrayals in the media. Hoping that, one day, we can all have equal rights for marriage.

You have the platform, you have the support, you have the money, you have the fans. What I think you don't have are, maybe, the friends and the shared experiences that define many of us. And that is essential to understanding our identities and our desires and the issues that are important to the community.

Your comments are not helping a movement you and your TV show have been sharing with the world. They are not helping the people who have worked so hard for marriage equality and for positive representation in media. They are not helping a movement that was ignited in part by trans women of color at Stonewall in 1969.

In short, they are not helping your new family.

I can only ask you to be more mindful of what you say and do in front of an audience of millions--it matters.

Thank you.

And again--welcome to the fam.




P.S.

If you ever read this, please tell Kim I love her Hollywood game.