Two Movies, One Theme

I have a big crochet project on, which means I’m logging some serious streaming time right now. The other day I watched a limited series called UNBELIEVABLE. I’m not normally a true crime person but hey, it was one of the choices and it involved a foster kid.

The story was amazing: a girl who is raped in Washington State is not believable, and there is no pursuit of her assailant, but of HER for false reporting. Her tenuous life of security and safety come unraveled.

Meanwhile, in Colorado, the guy is still at large and it isn’t until he’s caught that the detectives – who are women and who have taken his growing list of victims seriously – realize he struck first in Washington. What the series doesn’t reckon with is how many women wouldn’t have been harmed if the first victim had been believed. It does a whole lot of reckoning with everything else, including how the police treat women if the police are men. The whole series never let up for a second, until the end–when it didn’t call into account just how much harm comes from disbelief.

Next, because I will watch almost anything about India, and I don’t know why, was a documentary called TO KILL A TIGER. I didn’t watch it because it had a similar theme – in fact I didn’t know the similar theme until I started watching it.

TO KILL A TIGER follows a family whose 13-year-old daughter is raped by three older teens. There is never a question that the events happened. The questions center around why the father wasn’t more protective (read: restrictive) of the daughter to keep her from being in harm’s way, why the girl thought she was safe to be at the wedding in the first place and how she encouraged the boys by dancing, which of the boys she should marry since no one else would marry her, and why the family were pursuing a criminal case instead of resolving it as a village matter.

The film even presents itself as a “you’re not gonna believe these backward villagers, and how they shame the victim and the family.” The 14 months of the proceedings are hard to watch. But the way the film more or less says “look at how awful this culture of rural life is,” yeah, no. The same stuff was in the film about Washington and Colorado cities. The foster kid “didn’t act like someone who was raped.” Victim shaming. She lived in a foster kid adult community, and was “upsetting the balance.” Same thing, different accents, different food.

It has taken me awhile to sit with this. Don’t for one minute tell me about the progress we have made as women. Tell me you can watch these two Netflix offerings and not see the same thing. Tell me the reason the case was cracked in Colorado wasn’t because two female detectives saw a different world than their male counterparts.

Go on, tell me.

Tails of Many Cats

Jack makes it in time again – –

This isn’t a story of our cats although they will feature at times and there are certainly many stories about them!

This is the story of our neighborhood cats. We live on the edge of a cat colony, and they use our yard as a highway. They live in an abandoned apartment complex about a block away. Some are solitary and some hang around together but they all know where they can find breakfast, lunch and dinner!

We know that a few of them visit neighbors who also put out food for them and offer porches where they can either sunbathe or find a place to sleep.

There’s a local cat rescue group who regularly trap any newbies and get them spayed and released so things are reasonably under control.

Our frequent visitors are named by us for their colors and obvious personal attributes. We have Orangey, Sherbert, Blacky, Big Blacky, Tippy, Tux, Silver Tux, and Bernard.

Tippy!

Our two cats are fairly understanding about them all except for Tippy, who has been a daily frequent visitor since we moved here five years ago. Our neighbors had already named her because she is all over dark brown except for the tip of her tail which is white. She is extremely friendly and doesn’t just come for food, but likes a head rub and back scratch as well. We think she aspires to be an indoor cat and has occasionally come into the house or the porch. Once she chased young Dammit right through the cat flap into our living room before she realized she was in the house, and sat back with an appraising look. We think she didn’t like the coordination of our rug and curtains…

If our two, Molly and Dammit, are on our enclosed porch (the catio) and Tippy shows up they scream at her and she screams back. Since I don’t speak their language I can’t translate but I have a pretty good idea what they’re saying all the same. So I doubt if they will all three be sharing indoor space anytime soon.

Of the many others who show up regularly, Orangey and Blackie aren’t nearly as friendly as Tippy but are willing to tolerate us as long as we put out the food they prefer – –

The marmalade cat we call, well, Marmalade, likes to sunbathe on the chicken coop roof. The chickens like having her there; we think she may keep the hawks away. Orangey prefers the side yard, and Tux and Silver Tux never stay long, just passing through….

If it came to it, we could house another cat (besides Tippy) but they all seem well content to ease on down the road after a snack at our diner. We think there’s a “friendly people here” sign scratched into a tree someplace. Well, it’s not doing any harm and we buy cat food in bulk. Slink on by, feline friends, and just know if we catch you, we’re going to have you neutered. No harm, no foul, no offspring.