Something funny happened after a screening of Frances Ha.
My mother did not understand it.
Her confusion is odd because she is a bright, open woman with whom I have seen many more disturbing and controversial movies.
Closer comes to mind. We even went out to eat after that one. Imagine discussing a movie wherein a character shouts: “You like him coming in your face?!” while eating burritos and guac with your mother.
But talking about Frances Ha gave us trouble. The film articulated in a new and nuanced way what to my mother must appear the bizarre but to me has become the normal behaviors of my people — the ones I am clustered (clusterfucked?) in with because of the happenstance of my birth.
Though I generally hate generalizations (there are always exceptions to the rule), for clean and simple purposes here, I will refer to us collectively…
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