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inthewildwoodBecause I am a moron, I completely forgot about a meme where I promised ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hoosierbitch to put up a DVD commentary of "All day she tries to remember her reflection" Doh!
All day she tries to remember her reflection.
All night she tries to reassemble herself.
When I read the prompt, I got to thinking- about what Winona would've been faced with once she got back to Earth, how her identity would have been shaped by what happened on the Kelvin. And that extended to beyond her- how other people would have seen her after the Kelvin, how they would have classified her in their minds. So I started to write.
When she returns to Earth, she's met with an eager crowd of reporters, all grasping for a quote from George Kirk's Widow. It's like a title, the way they apply it to her; like she used to be a Science Officer. Now she's a Widow, a Victim, a Mother. Even her children aren't immune; Jim and Sam are now Orphans. And they're all Kirks.
Granted my own bitterness may be leaking through here- a lot about the way reporters behave in regards to victims of a calamity seriously skeeves me out, what with the jamming of microphones in peoples' faces and camping outside their houses. And now that Winona's husband has died, she's defined by that- she's no longer a person in her own right, she's an attache to her husband and kids. That's what I was going for with the Science Officer line- that she used to e defined by her own accomplishments, and now she's just an appendage to her husband's corpse.
Her mother suggests that she give them a statement, just to stave them off. Winona refuses. She knows that it won't last; they'll just come back, like stray animals who know they'll be fed again. There really is something animalistic about them, she thinks; the mindless savagery of their questions, the way they cluster outside her home like the zombies in holovids she loved as a kid.
Er, I did mention my distaste for reporters, yeah? *sheepish* I thought about how Winona would react, how she'd try and protect herself and her kids from the agressive questioning. And I thought, well, she's sensible- she knows that if she gives in once, they'll see it as an invitation to keep hassling her. So she puts them off.
Not that they want to hear about that; George Kirk's Widow doesn't watch holovids or love biology or hate cooking. The Mother doesn't cry at night because she's so tired, bone-tired, and two little boys to care for. By the same token, she doesn't clap her hands with glee when Jimmy takes his first steps, or when Sam comes home with a A in Chemistry. George Kirk's Widow is the face that they plaster across the news reports; her Starfleet photo, probably the only one they were able to find. Winona isn't fond of photos, and she certainly wasn't going to volunteer one.
This is the meat of what I was trying to get across- the way reports of tragedies dehumanize the people involved, and turn them into statistics instead of actual people. In the press's eyes, she doesn't like zombie movies or like biology (her job) or hate cooking- that doesn't fit into the label they've manufactured for her. And she doesn't get upset or tired, because she's the Brave Widow/Mother, and her existence is all about her husband and kids. (Can you hear the bitter feminist in me creeping through there?)
I got one comment saying that the idea of her not reacting to her kid's achievements really moved them. It kind of worried me, because that's not what I was going for- I was trying to say that she did react, but no one saw it, because little human moments like that aren't what the press/public looks for. The photo thing was sort of furthering it- photos give you a snapshot of a person, but they tell you nothing about who they are outside of that helf-second when the frame clicked down. So I thought it made sense for her not to like photos- she doesn't like manufactured labels, and her still picture only furthers that.
When she starts to go out again, people recognize her. Sometimes it's as simple as a cashier's eyes widening, or as open as an old woman pressing her hand and calling her "you poor dear." Winona nods politely, pulling her hand away and filing "Poor Dear" away as another one of her new titles.
This, I felt, was probably one of the hardest things about being in a publicised disaster like that- people recognize you, and form preconcieved notions of who you are before you even open your mouth. She's lost the chance to form a first impression, because anyone who sees her automatically assesses her as George Kirk's Widow. And no matter how benign their intentions (see the kindly old woman) they're still putting her in a box.
No one ever calls her "Survivor."
I hesitated a bit over whether to put "survivor" or "Winona" but I eventually went with the former for two reasons. One, I'd used her name several times in the preceeding paragraphs. Two, people like Winona are never, ever allowed to move on- we see in the movie that Jim is immediately assesed as George Kirk's kid when Pike meets him for the first time. It's been over twenty years, but the event still defines him in strangers' eyes. And it's even worse for Winona, because she was there, and she carries wounds from it but they'll never ever be allowed to heal because people keep bringing it up and dumping salt in them. No matter how much she grows or changes or moves on, she's still the Kelvin survivor, the hero's widow. Her identity will forever be bound up in that, whether she likes it or not. And it's incredibly sad.
hoosierbitch to put up a DVD commentary of "All day she tries to remember her reflection" Doh!All day she tries to remember her reflection.
All night she tries to reassemble herself.
When I read the prompt, I got to thinking- about what Winona would've been faced with once she got back to Earth, how her identity would have been shaped by what happened on the Kelvin. And that extended to beyond her- how other people would have seen her after the Kelvin, how they would have classified her in their minds. So I started to write.
When she returns to Earth, she's met with an eager crowd of reporters, all grasping for a quote from George Kirk's Widow. It's like a title, the way they apply it to her; like she used to be a Science Officer. Now she's a Widow, a Victim, a Mother. Even her children aren't immune; Jim and Sam are now Orphans. And they're all Kirks.
Granted my own bitterness may be leaking through here- a lot about the way reporters behave in regards to victims of a calamity seriously skeeves me out, what with the jamming of microphones in peoples' faces and camping outside their houses. And now that Winona's husband has died, she's defined by that- she's no longer a person in her own right, she's an attache to her husband and kids. That's what I was going for with the Science Officer line- that she used to e defined by her own accomplishments, and now she's just an appendage to her husband's corpse.
Her mother suggests that she give them a statement, just to stave them off. Winona refuses. She knows that it won't last; they'll just come back, like stray animals who know they'll be fed again. There really is something animalistic about them, she thinks; the mindless savagery of their questions, the way they cluster outside her home like the zombies in holovids she loved as a kid.
Er, I did mention my distaste for reporters, yeah? *sheepish* I thought about how Winona would react, how she'd try and protect herself and her kids from the agressive questioning. And I thought, well, she's sensible- she knows that if she gives in once, they'll see it as an invitation to keep hassling her. So she puts them off.
Not that they want to hear about that; George Kirk's Widow doesn't watch holovids or love biology or hate cooking. The Mother doesn't cry at night because she's so tired, bone-tired, and two little boys to care for. By the same token, she doesn't clap her hands with glee when Jimmy takes his first steps, or when Sam comes home with a A in Chemistry. George Kirk's Widow is the face that they plaster across the news reports; her Starfleet photo, probably the only one they were able to find. Winona isn't fond of photos, and she certainly wasn't going to volunteer one.
This is the meat of what I was trying to get across- the way reports of tragedies dehumanize the people involved, and turn them into statistics instead of actual people. In the press's eyes, she doesn't like zombie movies or like biology (her job) or hate cooking- that doesn't fit into the label they've manufactured for her. And she doesn't get upset or tired, because she's the Brave Widow/Mother, and her existence is all about her husband and kids. (Can you hear the bitter feminist in me creeping through there?)
I got one comment saying that the idea of her not reacting to her kid's achievements really moved them. It kind of worried me, because that's not what I was going for- I was trying to say that she did react, but no one saw it, because little human moments like that aren't what the press/public looks for. The photo thing was sort of furthering it- photos give you a snapshot of a person, but they tell you nothing about who they are outside of that helf-second when the frame clicked down. So I thought it made sense for her not to like photos- she doesn't like manufactured labels, and her still picture only furthers that.
When she starts to go out again, people recognize her. Sometimes it's as simple as a cashier's eyes widening, or as open as an old woman pressing her hand and calling her "you poor dear." Winona nods politely, pulling her hand away and filing "Poor Dear" away as another one of her new titles.
This, I felt, was probably one of the hardest things about being in a publicised disaster like that- people recognize you, and form preconcieved notions of who you are before you even open your mouth. She's lost the chance to form a first impression, because anyone who sees her automatically assesses her as George Kirk's Widow. And no matter how benign their intentions (see the kindly old woman) they're still putting her in a box.
No one ever calls her "Survivor."
I hesitated a bit over whether to put "survivor" or "Winona" but I eventually went with the former for two reasons. One, I'd used her name several times in the preceeding paragraphs. Two, people like Winona are never, ever allowed to move on- we see in the movie that Jim is immediately assesed as George Kirk's kid when Pike meets him for the first time. It's been over twenty years, but the event still defines him in strangers' eyes. And it's even worse for Winona, because she was there, and she carries wounds from it but they'll never ever be allowed to heal because people keep bringing it up and dumping salt in them. No matter how much she grows or changes or moves on, she's still the Kelvin survivor, the hero's widow. Her identity will forever be bound up in that, whether she likes it or not. And it's incredibly sad.
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