The title of this space comes from the repetitive action of walking a dog. My dog, Jolene.
Jolene is a terrier-chihuahua mix. She incites joy because she is small, extremely cat-like, and loves to kiss. When she walks, her tail rounds up and sways back and forth. It gives off an air of pride. Sometimes, she looks back at you, and it will feel like a great connection. This is definitely her on her best of walks. She can be terribly slow. Small legs lead to small steps. Nose to the floor sniffing something unseen. Spooked by a piece of trash. Tenderly making her way across leaves. Going great lengths to avoid puddles. It's actually very annoying.
For some people and dogs, Jolene brings up great fear. Small dogs are a trauma source.
That's how the phrase "she's friendly" arose. I say it all the time. Most of the time, it lands. People believe me, and they believe Jolene. They bow to her trying to accommodate her anxiety as she barks. They release the slack on the lead and let their dog bump noses with Joe.
Sometimes, people don't believe Joey or me. I can state it clearly, leave space between each word, so it really lands, but I will get the response, "oh, she's not friendly." Ultimately, it's fine. People need to take care.
But it makes me think about gender and expectations of kindness. It reminds me how often I feel misunderstood, ostracized, and generally not enough. I have been and will continue to be not sweet, patient, polite, neutral, or friendly enough. I don't always identify as a woman. I don't always feel like being kind. I want to authentically interact but process these expectations and signals all the time. I weigh the risk of meeting, breaking, and challenging them.
So, She's Friendly is a little bit of a joke. It's about a dog, but it is also about gender, persona, and sexuality. It's about being allowed to bark and snarl and maintain the right to be respected, seen, and held.
My partner Z and I started a tradition last year that we did not fulfill and continued not to fulfill this year. We set the goal to watch 20 - 31 scary movies during the month of October. And we set the goal to select and watch from certain decades (the 80s, 90s, 00s, etc.). Yes, neither goal succeeded but I like it!
This is our list. Best to worst. Most sexy to least sexy. Scariest to most boring.
Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988)
Halloween Ends (2022)
Hellraiser (1987)
Barbarian (2022)
The House of the Devil (2009)
Prom Night (1980)
Hocus Pocus 2 (2022)
The Blair Witch Project (1999)
Hotel Transylvania 2 (2015)
Ginger Snaps (2000)
The Grudge (2004)
Urban Legend (1998)
Significant Other (2022)
HOT – The MoMA exhibit Wolfgang Tillmans: To look without fear in NYC. Getting a library card. Books on tape. Punch needle. Counting to four. Framing postcards. Repotting a plant in the same pot. Baths with no bubbles. Googling slippers. Just wearing socks.
NOT – 2022 calendars. Fake cobwebs. Dull knives. Guilt for what you said last night when you were intoxicated. Tom Hanks. Chilly feet. That sound when metal scrapes against ceramic. Checking social media on the toilet. Parade underwear. Regular milk.
If you have mommy issues may I offer the following books.
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
Japanese Breakfast, identity, youth, loss, and grief. Fairly swift read. Some tears, some laughter. It made me crave kimchi. The story's arc is so easy to hold on to that I just kept flipping the pages.
I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy
Little trigger warning up front. There are severe representations of disordered eating throughout this book. Not very graphic but still present. As someone who has had issues with eating, body, weight, and self-worth, I was a little tender. Again, swift read. Realistic, funny, and heavy. Identity, narcissism, maternal love, success, and boundaries.
“I want you to have a job where when you break you charge, like a prius.” - Z
As this is the first newsletter and the audience is small, please respond and let me know what you liked, want to see more of, less of, or have feedback on.
Thank you.
x, C