Log 21

A Reminder: V for Vendetta, Valerie’s Letter and The Power of An Inch

Listening to: Sleeping with Ghosts by Placebo

“Let us never underestimate the power of a well-written letter.”

- Jane Austen

Of the movies that you’ve watched in your life, what are those that contain scenes that seem to have no relation to the overall plot, that could be cut easily without apparent consequence to its flow and narrative, and yet, once you feel and witness the intensity of such scenes, you conclude they’re the most crucial part of the film?

I know two.

One is Viola Davis’s perfect performance in Doubt (2008). Appearing for a mere eight minutes, she offered nonchalance, casual, she gave us grief, she gave us despair, anger and perseverance, motherly love and hope. Just tremendous acting. Gigantic performance! 8 minutes and boom— Oscar nomination. So few can deliver like her.

It’s raining right now, as I’m writing this, in my corner of the world. And whether on my mind or by whispered words, rain makes me think, or softly say the words, “God is in the rain.” It’s a line from the second powerful scene I’ve encountered in my life; a scene I go back to time and again to re-strengthen my resolve.

V for Vendetta was released in March of 2006 in the Philippines. It’s a perfect film to revisit what with the plague, the homophobia, the totalitarianism, the mis/disinformation and overall greed of the corrupt that’s again exemplified by our leaders to such a degree. This was 16 years ago. I was 18 and fully closeted, in great fear of even thinking gay, much less writing it down in a journal or a blog. I just wanted to see more of a buzzed Natalie Portman (which the trailer had shown) and reaffirm the fact that she’s stunning no matter what dress she puts on or whatever style is done to her. And yes, the movie does do that. But it also gave me one of the best and lasting lessons a film could have given.

The scene didn’t even register to me then. At the time, I had snippets of thoughts on gay. And of course, I did see and interact with gay people. But, naively, I thought all the complexities of feelings and thoughts of queer/gayness was a sole phenomenon, exclusive to me. Was I perhaps too young to comprehend? Not knowledgeable enough? Was there too many things going on for me then? Or was it because I couldn’t discuss it with anyone? Or generally not discussed? And that I instinctively needed shut off my reactions after watching it? Hayao Miayazaki once said [paraphrased] that it is alright for children to watch a movie that to them is incomprehensible; that they would understand those movies when they grew older. I could hardly be called a child at 18, but it seems this applied to me.

The scene is popularly referred to as Valerie’s Letter. The scene where an imprisoned Natalie finds a letter, tucked inside a mouse hole, that’s proof that a certain Valerie had lived.

There were two men in the scene, cuddled. In the letter, Valerie wrote how she found her soulmate, Ruth, when she worked on a film with her. They kissed. This all didn’t register to me at first. I only knew back then that the letter gave Natalie the resolve to battle on despite the overwhelming foes she was about to face. Two men in bed together, two women kissing. It thrills me, now and always, no matter what context, when I see people of the same sex/gender kiss or be intimate. But why didn’t those clips in the scene register to me before, even though I already knew I was gay then?

Now, of course, I understand Valerie’s Letter. This scene has more power than prayer, for me. And I’m hesitant to say I understand it fully. As with any good literature, revisiting a piece gives fresher perspective as we age on. And this scene and film have certainly done so— are continuing to, for me.

I’ve gotten into a bit of a slump recently. I see my friends living freely and well away from this God-awful place and it makes me jealous. Plus, there may be something in the works, something else the might possibly happen that could lock me in this place even longer… It’s those moments-of-weakness times that I’m eager to leave behind, and most of my enduring hope have disappeared.

Save an inch, like what Valerie wrote. I still have a precious inch with me now. And it’s enough to sustain me. I know it will grow soon and I’ll be like my old self again.

So I want to leave this clip here with a transcript, for those looking for hope. Hopefully you can watch and re-watch it. Study it, write about it, what it means to you. And to my lovely readers, if it’s not too much to ask, if I may prevail upon you, forward this email to anyone you may think is in need of it.

Pride, Black History, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, International Transgender Day of Visibility… we all have months and days commemorating these. But let us not forget that though we have given them special times, the battle against racism and hate, the fight for love is year-round.

Thank you for reading.

Transcript:

I know there’s no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks. But I don’t care. I am me.

My name is Valerie. I don’t think I’ll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography that I’ll ever write, and God— I’m writing it on toilet paper.

I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don’t remember much of those early years. But I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tottlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain.

I passed my eleven plus, and went to a girl’s grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sarah. It was her wrists — they were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew. Sarah did. I didn’t.

In 2002 I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn’t have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn’t look at me. He told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing. I’d only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us. And within that inch, we are free.

I’d always known what I’d wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I started my first film: The Salt Flats. It was the most important role of my life. Not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again. We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew Scarlet Carsons for me in our window box. And our place always smelled of roses. Those were the best years of my life.

But America’s war grew worse and worse, and eventually came to London.

After that there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone. I remember how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like “collateral” and “rendition” became frightening. When things like Norsefire and the articles of allegiance became powerful. I remember how different became dangerous.

I still don’t understand it: why they hate us so much. They took Ruth while she was out buying food. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. It wasn’t long until they came for me.

It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place. But for three years I had roses and apologized to no one. I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch. But one. An inch.

It is small and it is fragile, and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us. I hope that - whoever you are - you escape this place. I hope that the world turns, and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may not meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you.

With all my heart. I love you.

-Valerie."