This past Friday I encountered an opportunity for contemplation that made me self-evaluate in a way I feel I haven't done since college. I attended LUNAfest, a film festival of short films made by, for, and about women. These films addressed big issues such as happiness, grief, physical appearance, sexuality and social acceptance. It provoked some very heavy discussion among the women with whom I was attending the festival. The most moving film was South African and showed how people grieve differently. The white people in the film, who inexplicably lost a tiny infant to crib death, grieved in a very tight and formal way, supposedly comforted in the sterile church environment with a stiff priest delivering the
standard eulogy. The black people tied to the family who mourned chose to sing a chorus of alleluias that carried through until the film's end. In the face of this singing, the mother of the deceased cracked and sobbed openly.Seeing this film prompted one of my traveling companions to speak about a devastating loss from 6 years ago: a college roommate and dear friend killed in a car accident, and an ex-boyfriend lost to lymphoma in the same year. I had never heard her speak openly about the topic, and while it pained me to hear her talk about the challenges she faced, it reminded me that as a woman artist--even a part-time one--I have an obligation to address difficult topics so that the silence can be broken, and so that the stigma of seeking help will fall away...
