Netflix is Anti-Abortion

iammother

So Netflix was threatening to boycott the State of Georgia for its pro-life laws. Netflix is worried that Georgia will abort abortion. Because of this boycott threat, many pro-lifers are boycotting Netflix.

But Netflix is a hypocrite. It’s not really serious about abortion rights. Because if it were, it wouldn’t be streaming pro-life movies like I Am Mother. That’s right, Netflix actually streams a very pro-life, very anti-abortion movie. If Netflix doesn’t realize its contradictory stance, then it’s either simply hypocritical, or incredibly ignorant of its own content, or it’s secretly anti-abortion. I’m not sure what they are, but here are the pro-life signs from their recent critically acclaimed hit film itself:

—SPOILER ALERT—

  1. The film presents a feminine-voiced robot as a mechanical mother tasked with raising a baby girl. In fact, every mother figure in this film is female/feminine. In our LGBTQRSTUV+ conscious culture, why is the mother presented as womanly and feminine? Why do advanced, super artificial-intelligence robots of the future use old-fashioned traditional family roles in its attempt to raise the perfect human? Hint: because that’s how humans are meant to be best nurtured.
  2. There’s no mistake that motherhood is the theme of the film (the title?). But notice the plot twist: Mother-Bot has been long terminating human girls when they failed to qualify for continued existence. Mother-Bot administers tests on her daughters, and only raises the current protagonist because she has been passing. When we find that other girls had been gestated, born, raised, tested, failed, and then incinerated, we sense the film wants us to feel horrified. The fact that we don’t know how many girls have been burned to bones alludes even more to the fact that we may perhaps never know how many girls have been aborted in our world (in China alone, its missing an estimated 30-50 million girls. Talk about an actual war-on-women).
  3. But back to the film: so what if Mother-Bot terminated some girls during gestation? So what if Mother-Bot discovered a mutation, or a disease, or some other condition the unborn baby had, and then deemed her unqualified for the perfect life (whatever perfect even means)? What difference is there between terminating the girl then or terminating later? The motive is the same: the girl is not good enough.
  4. Here we see a commentary on the rampant objectification of girls and women in our culture. If she isn’t beautiful enough, hot enough, smart enough, small enough, skinny enough, et cetera enough, then she’s not worth it. If she doesn’t make me happy enough, proud enough, successful enough, then she’s something I must destroy. I decide if her life is worth the work I need to put in. –Mother-Boti-am-mother-pictures-images-gallery-clean
  5. But why does the film try to make us sense this mentality is horrific? If abortion is a woman’s right (as Netflix claims), then why is Mother-Bot not just an everyday hero doing what every mother should be free to do? Sure, you can say it’s because the baby isn’t actually inside Mother-Bot, but Mother-Bot even says in the film that she is more than just one robot, she is all of them, and the entire gestation/nursery facility, by extension. She runs everything, so actually Daughter is very much inside Mother-Bot, using her resources, time, energy, and space. And that relates very much to the argument for abortion-after-birth that is getting popular among many politicians of a certain political party: John Rogers (AL), Governor Northam (VA), Del. Tran (VA). After all, born babies keep using their mother’s resources, time, energy, and space… for years and decades.
  6. So point made: real motherhood is not about killing one’s children. We see this argued for by Daughter when she is upset about her culled siblings. If termination wasn’t bad, why all the outrage and fear from Daughter? Remember, Daughter is human: she is the protagonist who represents us in the film, as fellow humans who are pro-life/dignity/children/parenthood. Mother is the cold, mechanical, utilitarian, false-motherhood antagonist who is pro-choice/abortion. The choice is easy: be like Daughter!
  7. If that’s not enough signs of the film’s pro-life message, consider how the myriad fetuses are addressed: they’re called brothers and sisters. Including the unborn embryos! Their not called “clumps of cells”, or “potential people”, or merely “products of conception”. They are already family members.i_am_mother_still
  8. Additionally, quite a few Catholic symbols appeared both prominently and subtly in I Am Mother. Obviously, the rosary (as our Blessed Mother’s prayer), and the Marian icons (in the shipping container where the woman lived), but also that Daughter becomes the mother-figure for her newborn brother. Daughter, in a sense, is the virgin mother of the baby boy. For any astute Catholic, that’s an obvious reference to the only real-life Virgin Mother. Sadly, where the film is going with all this religious motherhood imagery is still lost on me, so if you have any insights, I’d be glad to hear it.
  9. On a related note, there’s also the issue of manufacturing children and growing them in gestation machines (as opposed to to conceiving children and carrying them in their mothers’ wombs). I’ve been mulling on writing something about this topic for a while, so this is a sign for me to get it out. But before it gets written, please see #3-4 above for arguments closely relevant, and also my philosophy thesis discussing the humanity and absurd predicament of frozen embryonic children.

So there we have it. Signs strongly suggesting that Netflix is flip-floppy about its abortion advocacy. Sure, boycott a pro-life state, but don’t boycott a pro-life movie streaming from your own collection? Come on. Just come out and say it: Netflix is secretly anti-abortion (or at least conflicted).

 

How Women in Veils Inspire Males Like Me

[The following post is in honor of Pope Saint Pius X, whose memorial is today, and the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, which we honor tomorrow.]

Ever since I rediscovered the Extraordinary Form of Mass for myself, being Roman Catholic has never been the same. In fact, three big markers pop out of my timeline of Catholic living: when I encountered the Theology of the Body, when I met Mary, and when I discovered the Tridentine Mass.

Over the past few years of attending Tridentine Masses whenever I could (each time a wonderful treat!), one of the things most noticeably distinct to me are the number of women — young and old — who don the chapel veil (aka: mantilla). I always felt different at Mass and worship in the presence of these women in veils, but I didn’t know why (or how so) until this past weekend in the most unlikely of places…

Mass at CampI was at the Midwest’s annual weekend training camp for leadership in the Vietnamese Eucharistic Youth Movement of America. Just before our opening Mass in an open field, in the humble shade of a tree and under the gaze of the morning sun, one of my dear friends beside me pulled out a white lace veil and draped it over her hair. It was out of the corner of my eye, but I saw everything in slow motion. I could not believe what I was seeing, and how it lifted my heart. Instantly, I felt a rush of reverence: if she could humble herself so much before Jesus… then how much more should I long to join her in worshiping Him! Her simple gesture to honor Christ floored me, and inspired me to show at least as much reverence.

And then, I found out she was not the only one. Throughout the Masses we shared at camp, I saw another young woman under a veil. As she approached Jesus in the Eucharist, as she knelt before our King and received His Communion, I found myself no longer able to stand before the Lord. The simple and passing beauty of the scene between the King and His daughter made me feel unworthy of beholding it so. I turned my eyes down… I wanted to crawl to Communion because my soul could sense the holiness present. My humble little heart could not handle the beauty.

I know not why it was this setting, this weekend, this event that helped me see how women in veils could help males like me worship, but I praise the Holy Spirit for the gift of this experience, for the gorgeous gift of these women. Thank you. And to further the glory of God, I asked these women to personally share with you their beautiful story…

I’m an all-in-kind-of girl, and as of that, I’ve come to realize that my inability to commit partially is both a blessing and a curse. In any case, it is most definitely the reason why I usually find myself, either, fatally wrong or unshakably confident.

My decision whether to veil or not to veil was no exception. Unbeknownst to me, my discernment process started a few years ago as casual curiosity and admiration. I didn’t have any strong feelings towards it, other than, “Wow, that’s beautiful and holy looking……. I probably shouldn’t wear it.”

But then, through my encounter with the Theology of the Body and the Blessed Sacrament, my understanding for the Church, worship and the nature of God developed — and I wanted to participate in my faith more fully.

It started with my decision to dress more modestly — by replacing my skimpy bikinis with one piece bathing suits.  I avoided controversial situations, like getting drunk while bar hopping in leotards — or just getting drunk, period. (I’m not really sure why I ever thought that it was appropriate to wear leotards as a complete outfit). But bit by bit… all these little changes restored my self image as a child of God. It helped me see myself how my Creator intended me to be. I became more aware of how I needed to represent myself as part of Christ’s body, so much so that I became uncomfortable when I misrepresented myself — and thus misrepresented Christ.

But the holy smack didn’t happen until a few months ago, when I was listening to Tim Staples, an apologist, talk about how Catholics are missing the point of Mass. It’s not just about us ‘getting fed’ but instead the Mass/Sabbath is a day, set aside to give God the praise and worship that is just.  It’s the time to fall to our knees to ask for forgiveness, grace and mercy. It’s the time to glorify Him and hail Jesus to be our true Savior.

Worship is not a matter of my feelings, it is our response to faith.

Furthermore, when I reflected on Scripture, and saw how Jesus references the Church as His bride. The pieces started to fall in place and I understood more clearly, what my Living God was doing. Day-in-and-day-out, upon that altar, He was keeping His Word. He was coming to us, as a MAN. He was offering Himself — completely and fully to us. He was re-establishing a covenant.

Jesus was all in.

[Korean Figure Skater, Yuna Kim, wears the veil.]

[Korean Figure Skater, Yuna Kim, wears the veil.]

This brought me to my knees — literally. I not only genuflected before the Eucharist, I went down on both knees. I am a mortal human that has been chosen to be a temple of God…! I was in the presence of a king. I was receiving Christ! And I wanted to do what was just and deserving of that honor.I begin to prepare for Mass differently. I hung onto every word of the liturgy. I humbly, surrendered and re-committed my life to Jesus, each and every time I received Him.I am a woman, claimed by Christ, Himself.So, what about the veil? Well, there’s no high theology here. It just made sense and was fitting. I want to submit myself before the Lord.  I want to embrace my role as a woman in the Church. The veil represents something that had changed WITHIN me. It is an outward sign of a commitment made in the depths of my heart and soul. So with unshakable confidence — I wear it…’Cause I’m an all-in-kind-of girl.

-Santa Thérèse

The beauty of the mantilla never struck me until reading Crystalina Evert’s blog on the Chastity Project; before, it had just been some weird headdress that old women and younger, presumptuous girls wore to Mass to show off their holiness.  Little did I know that those women didn’t wear those veils because they thought they were holy – it was because they needed to be holier.

Before Vatican II, women were required to wear a chapel veil to Mass in order to show reverence to the Lord on His day, as well showing the world that they, as women, were sacred enough to veil and be protected from the world around them.  The sacred should be veiled, as the Eucharist is protected in the monstrance, the tabernacle, and under the veil during Mass.  After Vatican II, the requirement of wearing the mantilla was taken out of Canon Law, and feminists in the 60’s denounced wearing it because they believed that it was a symbol of slavery to men and to the church, and so the beautiful tradition of the mantilla faded away.

When I read Crystalina’s thoughts on the mantilla, the idea of wearing one intrigued me, but I brushed it off because I didn’t want people looking at me funny or thinking I was getting above myself.  But the image of the veil kept popping into my head, incessantly and constantly.  I decided to pray about it and leave it up to God to show me what I should do, because if I was going to go all out Mary-style, I needed to know exactly why I would.  In the meantime I did some research on it.  I found that several First Ladies, including Jackie Kennedy, Nancy Reagan, and Michelle Obama, all wore veils upon meeting Popes John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis.  If powerful women felt the need to veil themselves in the presence of the Holy See, why shouldn’t we veil ourselves in the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist?  Not only does the veil show that women are sacred, it also helps you grow into your sacredness.  The wearing of the mantilla promotes the growth of virtues such as chastity, purity, humility, and modesty, all of which are exemplified in the Virgin Mary, who is always depicted wearing a veil.

[Icon by Mina Anton]

[Icon by Mina Anton]

The more I read, the more I felt that God was calling me to be more like our Mother, and to emulate her in everything that I do. Like Crystalina, I loved the idea of being covered by the Holy Trinity and being protected by it.  My boyfriend bought me a white mantilla, which is the traditional color for unmarried women, made of Spanish lace as an homage to my patron saint, Teresa of Avila.  Wearing the mantilla makes me feel like I am alone with Christ during Mass; everyone else melts away, and it’s just me and my maker. I feel more alert, more open, more joyful, and even excited when I get the chance to put it on. I feel even more excited when people ask me about it, because it gives me a chance to share my love for the Holy Family and Holy Trinity.  I love the feel of the lace on my hair, like the caress of a parent’s hand on their child’s head.  I love the way the veil frames my line of vision when I look at the Eucharist.  And I love being able to grow closer to my heavenly Father and my Blessed Mother.

-ANonymous

“And this is why the female body should be veiled because everything which is sacred calls for veiling. When Moses came down from Mount Sinai, he veiled his face. Why did he veil his face? Because he had spoken to God and at that very moment there was a sacredness that called for veiling… Veiling indicates sacredness and it is a special privilege of the woman that she enters church veiled.” –Dr. Alice von Hildebrand

More thoughts on the mantilla from around the Catholic blogosphere:

1) I Love My Chapel Veil

2) Notes from Beneath the Veil

3)And here’s a video on the veil! 

LML: Secrets of Homecoming (CH:03)

[WARNING: what follows is an interview that reveals the details and depths of Little Miss Lucifer: The Legend of the Exorcess. SPOILER ALERT.]

03Homecoming

—You: Obviously, the title here again summarizes what’s happening in this chapter, right? I mean, the sister comes home, running and running home. I like how you describe smells, views, sounds and even what she feels. Very visceral.

—Evan: It actually came a bit from personal experience. I remember being on my feet all day, heels aching, toes all stiff, and then stepping into soft cool earth. It was amazing how good it felt, especially since it was summer and everything was so superheated. It was like a massage just standing in the soil… similar to digging your foot deep into a beach volleyball court, deep where the sand is cool.

—You: Next time I’m at the beach, I’ll have to try that. But of course, there’s plenty of beaches where you live right? Great Lakes State?

—Evan: Definitely, lot’s of water.

—You: Speaking of water, I was a bit unsure of the third paragraph in the chapter. I mean, I think I know, but it’s so very subtle… Her heart bounces between her juggling lungs – forces blood throughout their bodies. It ripples her womb’s waters. She slides her hand under her belly – cradles with one hand and braces against the wall with the other.

I’m thinking here she’s very pregnant.

Yet again, she just ran all that way home from wherever she was before, some sort of laboratory or hospital. And the setting she’s in now, rice paddies and dirt roads, tells me she’s nowhere near the city.

—Evan: If you can’t tell, I have a smile on my face. Haha, so then what’s your uncertainty? It sounds to me you’re understanding just fine! I mean, a heart that pumps blood to two bodies? A womb filled with water? A hand cradling a belly? The other hand gripping the wall?

And if you think it’s nothing short of miraculous that she could run all that way home… well don’t forget too soon what the previous chapter was…

—You: Right! Divine Intervention. I guess that sort of explains things and also leaves it a mystery. But tell me about these pieces of familiar faces at the bottom of the page. I see later that the woman is holding ceramic skeletons. Are these statues of saints?

—Evan: Is that a question? Because it sure sounds like an answer to me.

—You: Psssh! But is it the right answer?

—Evan: I hope so! That’s what I was aiming to describe, after all.

—You: And these are smashed, hence the litter, the shards, the pieces and the nettlefield. Great metaphor by the way: nettles are so annoying and painful to step on!

—Evan: Not to mention I just realized that “nettle” sounds awfully like “needle” too… wow.

—You: And speaking of similarities, I found an ambiguous sentence, and I really like it: “She stoops to touch the Virgin Mother’s cheek, brings it to her left cheek.” I mean, does the sister bring the broken half of the statue’s face to the other half? Or does she bring the broken half to her own face? Like how people touch cheeks when they say hello in some cultures?

—Evan: Actually, I prefer to leave that ambiguous. But I’d say both understandings show how beautiful some ambiguities can be.

—You: Tell me about the statues though. I see three: the Virgin Mary, Her Most Chaste Spouse, and a broken boy. Who are they, and what are the statues for?

—Evan: I’m glad you asked. It’s like when people use a phone, especially when talking with a loved one. People smile at their phones, whisper at their phones, sing into their phones, and say “I love you” to their phones – but are they showing affection for their phone? Or are they using the phone as a way to connect to the beloved at the other end of the line?

The phone is just a medium, a conduit, a fancy pair of cups tied together with string. Now that we have smartphones and video chat, the analogy gets even better: we’re human persons. Humans have ears and eyes, skin, nose and tongue – we can sense: hear, see, touch, smell and taste. And we need to. As Christians, we believe God made us and that He knows what He’s doing, that He made the physical body a good thing, and that humans need their body to be human!

So when we pray, we not only use our mind, voice and hearing, we want to use our sight and touch. We want to have beautiful eyes to gaze into, patient ears to whisper to, and open hands to hold. A statue serves that purpose. Of course, we would much rather have the person physically there with us, but it’s not always possible. Think of the times a mother remembers and thinks of her child when she folds their clothes, or when a father thinks of his child when he looks at an old photograph – that’s exactly what Catholic statues, icons and relics help us do. We don’t worship or love the object, but we use the object to remind us, to connect us with the beloved. The objects help engage more of us, not just engage our mind but also involve our bodies. As fallen humans, we need all the help we can get when we pray.

In fact, we want so much help that we pray to the saints. We know we can go straight to Jesus in prayer, but some of us don’t exactly have the confidence to do so, and some of us need to start off with an introduction. We see this sometimes when a father is upset with a son or daughter. What does the child do? He goes to his mother and asks for help, asks what he should say to Father, when and how to approach him. This basically explains why some Christians ask the saints for intercession.

Because we also believe the saints are those of us who have risen to Heaven, and they are closer (spiritually closer, and in the Virgin Mary’s case – also physically closer!) to God than we are here on earth. In Heaven, we also become more human than we are here on earth. Here, we have defects and deformities: sin, death and evil. In Heaven, we are what God made us to be: fully pure and alive, immortal and royalty. There’s a crown waiting for each of us. Thing is… do we want it enough?

—You: Wow, that makes sense… it reminds me of the phrase “smells and bells” when people think of the Catholic Mass. The priest uses incense and there are bells being rung at important moments. So, even our sense of smell is brought into use in prayer!

—Evan: And our sense of taste! When we receive Holy Communion, the flavor of bread and wine engage us. That reminds me of a time when I received the Eucharist and had a sort of mini-mystical experience. I won’t go into it now… probably save it for the later chapters.

—You: Hmmm! Interesting. I haven’t seen things that way before. I like how it’s not all intellectual, but also sensuous.

—Evan: That’s why ugly or plain churches are such turn-offs. Think about it: if God is Beauty itself, and His Church is the Mystical Body of Christ, then shouldn’t the building that we gather in be decent? If not dazzling? There’s another reason for the beauty, but I’ll also leave that for a more relevant time. Something to think about for now.

—You: Yes, and for now I’d like to know what/who “Her Most Chaste Spouse” is referring to…

—Evan: Ah… that’s one of the titles (like a nickname) for Saint Joseph: also known as San Jose in Spanish! That’s right… the city in California is named after him. We call him Mary’s Most Chaste Spouse because he loved his wife (Mary) with a superhuman and chaste love, a love that was lustless and self-sacrificing. I understood this nickname of his even better when I heard one of his other titles: St. Joseph, the Terror of Demons. Yep… he terrorizes demons. They loathe him, avoid him, and fear his holiness. Because he refused to lust after Mary, the devil couldn’t bait him. Most of us, men especially, fall into lust because we don’t have the strength or know what true love is. True love is always chaste: honest, sincere, unselfish and faithful. Think about this… Mary is the most beautiful of all of God’s creations (If you were God, wouldn’t you make your mom perfect?), and since Joseph was her husband, it must’ve been quite tempting for him to use her for his selfish gratification. But… her beauty was so out of this world, that it inspired him to love her with a love that is also out of this world.

The Holy Family
[Click the icon to visit the artist’s page!]

And the love that is out of this world is Divine Love: God’s love… holy, pure, generous, faithful, fruitful, free, and total. In Greek, this love is called Agape: the love that would sacrifice itself for the beloved’s well-being.

—You: I never ever knew that! Wow… St. Joseph. And of course then, in this chapter, the broken boy that his arms are holding is the baby Jesus, right? I like that image, almost like a forewarning of suffering… like the child will suffer…

—Evan: I like how you out that! The Child Will Suffer. It’ll make a nice title for a future work!

—You: Haha, you’re free to use it as you please. But last question now: is that a Chinese flag hung up over the altar? Like, “a red flag of yellow stars”?

—Evan: I’m pretty sure the Communist-Chinese flag is the only red flag with yellow stars, right? Haha. I know the Communist-Vietnamese one is also red, but with only one yellow star. But yes, you’re right about the flag in this scene. It’s important to also remember that it’s communist.

—You: I see the antagonist in the story is being built up. This is a story of political struggle, too then?

—Evan: I’d say struggle isn’t strong enough of a word in this case.