All About My Mother. Week #2
The saga of Vicky/Victoria and Pedro Almodovar's involvement
This week I kept thinking about Pedro Almodovar’s 20-year-old Spanish film “All About My Mother”.
Almodovar’s story includes organ transplantation, enduring grief after the death of a child, LGBTQIA+ (I think he hits every single one of those), trans identity politics, religion, HIV/AIDS, drug addiction, caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s, a bit of art forgery for good measure and probably some stuff I’m forgetting. And it’s all rolled up in an homage to actors, his mother, Bette Davis and A Street Car Named Desire (he also slyly references many other classics). We get to the end of the story and a bunch of people have died – the teenage son of the main character Manuela and even young Penelope Cruz’s character Sister Rosa (a nun who contracts AIDS, gets pregnant by Esteban/Lola, a drug addicted transgender sex worker, and dies in childbirth).
It’s so packed with wackiness that it’s nearly melodramatic – but yet it’s incredible. I highly recommend watching. Even just to see the funky, gorgeous apartments.
Late in the film, Agrado, a transexual woman who is tragic/funny, delivers a monologue in an improvised performance at a theatre. She treats the audience to her life story in the form of a list of the cost of each cosmetic improvement she’s undergone to attain her female body. You can watch it below, but the last line is what I want to talk about.
Agrado says, “It costs a lot to be authentic, ma'am. And one can't be stingy with these things because you are more authentic the more you resemble what you've dreamed of being.”
Almodovar’s style of storytelling resonates with me because tragi-comedy is in my DNA. My fiction writing definitely veers toward this style. But first what I really aim to talk about this week is my name.
My mother was determined to name me some version of this: Vickie/Vicky/Vicki/Vickey (it was spelled all those ways on different documents) and yet the nurses begged her to name me Victoria. My oldest half brother Gary – very tragic and yet funny. A discussion for another day —came up with the name. Anyhow, my mother liked Vicky and I was mostly called that growing up. Yet she told me from the time I was tiny that maybe I’d like Victoria better someday. Very young me apparently told a relative that I would certainly use Victoria when I got older, but I forgot all about that. When I got older, though, I did start using Victoria. Why did I do that? I told myself that I liked the sound of the name better, but it was really because somehow it better reflected what I dreamed of being.
There are so many people who adjust or change their names, yet if you do there are consequences.
I once worked with someone at Shape magazine who was a Canadian Olympic athlete (I was an intern and she was a writer). She wanted to be called her full name instead of the diminutive version and she told me her local newspaper and the sports announcers actually made fun of her! I had an old friend who even got angry when I started using Victoria. She said I’d regret it and there’d come a time in my life where I’d be sad that I didn’t have friends who called me Vicky. What is wrong with people? What the hell would she care what I call myself?
I’ve never insisted on being called anything. I’m a little different on this than many people. I have friends who get ticked off if you call them a short version of their preferred name. I have some family and old friends who still call me Vicky/Vicki (spelled all different ways!) and just as many who shorten the whole thing to Vic or V, which I really don’t mind. All my official docs are Victoria, except the cheeky IRS just calls me V. By the way, thank goodness I started using Victoria because I eventually married into a family with a Vicki. So that name was already taken.
What does all this have to do with “All About My Mother?” Well, I’m talking about authenticity. Agrado had it right. I’m not into cosmetic surgery for myself, but I agree that you are more authentic the more you resemble what you've dreamed of being. As a writer, I’m still trying to be what I dreamed of being. There have been points along the road where I’ve rested contently, yet I still have my list of things I hope to do. I know that many of you do too.
Getting back to things I want to do, Cyn Nooney (Cynthia/Cindy/Cyn) and I wrote a short script called “Where To?” I met C in a My Gym class (like Gymboree) when she lived in Southern California and our boys were not even two years old (my son is now almost 20!). She moved to the Bay Area when the kids were still little, but we kept in touch and we both kept writing. So, if nothing else, this is a great writer-mom-persister story. We recently got together and wrote a script. Out of nearly 9,000 submissions our script advanced as a quarterfinalist in the Page Awards. We’ll find out soon if we advance further.
I didn’t previously connect this, but after re-watching “All About My Mother” this week, it’s clear that C and I were trying to do something like Almodovar. Our script deals also with issues like homelessness, drug addiction, LGTQIA motherhood, molestation, and the death of a sibling and parent. But the characters are mostly made of tragic-funny DNA and in the end it’s not bleak. I don’t know how two straight chicks originally from small town middle America reflect similar pathos as a legendary gay Spanish writer/director, but I’m going to say we do. To a certain extent. I hope others agree.
On the journalism front, I’m trying to be the writer I dreamed of being by convincing a dream editor to assign me a story about organ transplants. And I’m working on a few other ideas too. It’s new for me to tell anyone about what I’m pitching or working on. It’s a bit uncomfortable. Maybe I won’t continue.
That’s enough for now, yet I still have a few items to share this week…
Women Talking
I had planned to discuss the press release that my magazine editor friend Linda, who also reads tarot, sent me. It was about Daryl Hannah and the EcoWarrior Barbie. But that was a hoax, friends! So instead:
Christi told me about Newlane University, a new accredited school that’s apparently trying to make education affordable and accessible. It’s all online and the promise is the coursework is rigorous and yet the program will only cost $1,500 total to earn an AA and another $1,500 total to earn a BA in philosophy. I’ve never taught at Newlane or taken classes, but I kind of like what I see. Check it out and share the news with dreamers of degrees.
Trouble Will Find You/Meditation
I watched writer Anne-Marie Blanchard read her story “Trouble Will Find You” and laughed at a line she gave Violet, a former pro skateboarder who is trying to figure out how to live an adult life. Violet says, “Meditation is for basic bitches.” If you want to be a basic bitch like me, I highly recommend The Den, which has all kinds of different types of meditation and classes both livestream and on-demand. I started going during the pandemic and never stopped. Jamie Wozny, Kathryn Schiff and Fe Burkley are some of my faves, but all the instructors are good. And, of course, I also recommend listening to Blanchards’s excellent short story:
Summer Salad
I grew up putting salt on watermelon (not sure if this a Midwest thing or maybe only a my mom thing?) and others grew up putting Tajin on it. This salad is yet another great thing you can do with watermelon. My kids hate it, but my husband and I love it.
Watermelon Salad
4-5 cups watermelon cut in bite-size pieces
½ red onion sliced very thin
¼ cup balsamic vinegar (adjust to your likeness, more or less)
½ cup feta cheese (again, add more if you like)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh basil or mint
A squeeze of lemon juice
Gently toss all these ingredients and enjoy!
That Is It!
Next week I’m taking my kid to college so I’m sure the post will be much shorter. By the way, I’ve already received several requests for My Friend Mary advice (that’s when my wise friend Mary solves your problems and I also weigh in)! I’m trying to track her down and I’ll likely have some good stuff to share soon. Email if you have dilemmas you want us to solve: victoriaclayton@substack.com
This is fun, right?
I've had a couple of people email me about the salad! One person even puts olives in it. Try it and let me know what you think! Also -- I know what you mean about the mint. If you plant it in a garden ppl warn that it takes over. I've only grown it in containers, though. You need grow a lot of it for all those drinks -- I mean salad. haha
I am a name changer, too! I don't go by my given last name, using my middle name instead. I was also told my name was planned this way so I could abandon the unspellablle Italian surname I was born with. And my partner was Dennis growing up -- a name he loathed; his mother called him Den -- and has been Denny for 30 years. He will correct people, even his siblings, because Dennis is simply someone else. Like you, I've had my name misspelled and misprounounced so much that even the effort is worthy of praise. I'll answer to Mia, to Gina -- I know my name is different, and I just assume if there's no one else around, that person is talking to me. For others, it's more sensitive. Aren't we all wonderful, wild, unique creatures? Thanks for sharing! Congrats on the script. Can't wait to see you moderate the SoCal SciWri event at the end of the month!