Deeply Felt: Things Unsaid

A double feature and my poem about shutting the f up

You might say I am in the business of words.

Not just via my writing life, but in my TV life as well. I develop and produce unscripted programming and throughout my many years in this business, one of my primary jobs has been, in essence, getting people to talk. Whether in interviews, during a scene, or simply reacting to something a host/judge says in a competition show, I’m frequently, lovingly (most of the time) reminding people that, “It’s a talkie. The audience can’t read your mind.”

Say words, please.

But lately, I’ve thinking a lot about the power of silence.

Of not feeling the need or obligation to fill the void.

Of listening.

Of gazing.

“Gazing on beautiful things acts on my soul.” - Michelangelo

It started after I saw the touching, and often hilarious, coming-of-age film, Didi. Set in 2008, Didi is a deeply felt depiction of what life was like for a young Taiwanese-American boy trying to make his way in the murky waters of teenage life. Nothing comes easy; everything feels fraught. While the film is inspired by writer/director Sean Wang’s adolescence, the feelings it captures, I think you’ll find, are pretty universal.

Perhaps because I now have a 13-year-old (thoughts and prayers appreciated), I felt myself drawn to Didi’s mother, played impeccably by Joan Chen.

There’s a scene at the end of the film where no words are spoken. Chen’s character is gazing at her son with this look. It’s a look that contains multitudes. A look that says everything she needs to say. A look that reminded me sometimes words can’t fully express what exists inside of us.

I think these moments, for us non-actor types, can only occur when we are fully invested in knowing—and delighting in—the person in front of us, flaws and all. And, in a world that seems to place a premium on who can make the most noise, I feel we could probably all use more of those quietly beautiful moments in our lives.

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Shortly after seeing Didi, my husband and I went to another film,* Sing Sing. Oh, this film. This work of art. It left me breathless. From start to finish, I felt it so deeply that I have thought of little else since leaving the theater.

*The season pass from Alamo Drafthouse is the best deal around.

Sing Sing is based on the real-life program, Rehabilitation Through the Arts, which was founded at the infamous Sing Sing prison in 1996. The cast, led by (I swear to god if he doesn’t win the Oscar I’ll burn this place to the ground) Colman Domingo, consists primarily of formerly incarcerated men and participants of the program, including the spectacular Clarence Maclin.

One of the details that touched me so deeply were the quiet moments director Greg Kwedar allowed for. Moments of tenderness when incarcerated men sit in a circle with their eyes closed and imagine their “most perfect spot.” Moments when devastation has no words, but is written all over the characters’ faces. Moments of brotherhood, coming to life through one person truly listening to another. Moments of triumph. Moments of healing. All of these things take place, often, because of what isn’t said. There don’t always need to be words, you see, when life is deeply felt.

Please go see this film if you can. It is a masterpiece.

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I Wrote a Poem. Please Clap.

Thanks to a DEEPLY humiliating incident on day 1 in a college poetry class, I have historically stayed away from this medium until recently. I don’t really know what’s shifted other than maybe realizing I should get over something that happened more than two decades ago?

Anywho, this is a poem that came to me after (1) I sang the lyrics to Taylor' Swift’s “The Tortured Poets Department” wrong and (2) I reflected on one too many instances where I was expected to placate—apologies to all the decent dudes out there—men who were acting like tools.

The Wrong Words

I sang the lyrics wrong one day
Instead of “I think some things I never say”
Taylor’s tortured words came out the other way
“I say some things I never think”
Funny, I thought, this is how I let myself shrink

I’m sorry
You’re right
It's okay
I understand

I’ve said them all as lies, usually to a man
It’s easier this way
Not causing a scene
But underneath it simmers
Oh how women tire of this routine

Until one day I stop
Saying things I do not think
No pleasant smiles
Or feminine wiles 
Just silence, I wait for them to sink

I bite my tongue in power
I bite my tongue as a creed 
I bite my tongue and do not cower
They hate it when we bleed*

*Except for you, Tampon Tim!

This week, I challenge you to embrace things unsaid, gaze at something or someone you love or want to understand better, and refrain from, as my brilliant friend said, “creating lightness for a-hole men so they don’t feel embarrassed or stupid or mean.”

And, as always, let me know what you’re feeling!