Self-care, identity, and pop culture

Illustration by Lisa Franklin /@mytwolesbianants

Illustration by Lisa Franklin /@mytwolesbianants

Let’s just get it out of the way: I hated Marriage Story. As much as I will jump at any chance to watch Laura Dern onscreen, and enjoyed her delightful turn as a fierce L.A. divorce lawyer, I simply couldn’t understand why I was supposed to care about the film’s central characters: Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver as a married couple in the New York theatre scene going through an increasingly nasty divorce complicated by parenthood, adultery, and the logistics of living bi-coastally. 

Marriage Story’s awards season press cycle plastered my Twitter and Facebook feeds with ads, press coverage, and personal commentary from people whose opinions I valued, largely praising the film. I slowly started to reconsider my stance and maybe even soften what my friends had come to know as “my Adam Driver rage,” the phenomenon wherein just looking at his face made me mad enough to raise my blood pressure a little. I was getting worn down by coverage of the film and swayed by the praise of internet people I respected. After all, I’m a sucker for Sondheim, and I thought the oft-cited “Being Alive” karaoke scene was sweet and sad, featuring an earnest performance from Driver and hitting the bittersweet notes I’d come to know and love in previous films by director Noah Baumbach, such as The Squid and the Whale and Frances Ha. Then, however, something happened to bring my Adam Driver rage back in full force.

In December, Driver made headlines for abruptly walking out in the middle of a radio interview on NPR’s Fresh Air with seasoned interviewer Terry Gross. Driver has previously mentioned that it causes him discomfort to watch or listen to clips of his own acting, and Fresh Air planned to play a clip of that Sondheim karaoke scene as part of the interview. Apparently, they told Driver that they would let him know when the clip was about to be played so that he could remove his headphones, but Driver still found the conditions to be unsuitable and removed himself from the situation by walking out of the interview. 

Here is where my Adam Driver rage comes into play. The internet, from media outlets to both celebs and non-celebs on Twitter, responded largely by praising Driver for standing up for himself, setting a boundary, and overwhelmingly for "practicing self-care.” An article from NBC News entitled “Diva or self-care icon? Adam Driver walkout prompts debate” rounded up quotes from celebrities, activists, and other personalities both supporting and criticizing Driver. What I found noteworthy in particular was how many of the people voicing their support for Driver employed language of self-care and mental health.

Other defenses go still further, referencing Driver’s previous statements about feeling nauseated or anxious when watching himself act, and extrapolating from those statements that Driver must have a clinical phobia or panic disorder. A Mic article entitled “Adam Driver walking out of his 'Fresh Air' interview was an act of self-care” relies on this theory, ultimately concluding, “At the end of the day, the only person who should really care that Driver walked out on Fresh Air is its host. This incident sounds like it was a bummer for everyone involved.” 

However, the reality is that as a public figure, Driver’s actions have larger-than-life effects. It is necessary to take into consideration Driver’s position of societal power within the film industry, and to view his actions in light of that power, and maybe even as an exercise and reinforcement of it. While of course setting boundaries and practicing self-advocacy in the workplace is an invaluable skill, it is hard to imagine anyone other than a white man being praised for exercising those skills in such a dramatic fashion –– and in fact, we don't have to look very far in the past for an example of this dichotomy. 

The Driver episode and the internet's reaction to it stand in sharp contrast to a similar incident that occurred in late November, in which Gabrielle Union was fired from her role as a judge on America's Got Talent after reporting multiple acts of racism and other hostilities that she and others experienced on set. A Vulture article entitled “Gabrielle Union Criticized the Culture at America’s Got Talent. Now She’s No Longer There” stated, “Union was informed by NBC that they were letting her go after one season of judging the competition show, which multiple sources allege was because she was perceived as ‘difficult’ by Cowell and his team of producers.” Union’s fight for a safe and hospitable work environment included requesting that Cowell not smoke on set (according to that Vulture article, “It is against California law for an employer to allow smoking in an enclosed workspace”), asking performers their pronouns, pushing for the show not to air footage of Jay Leno saying a racist joke, objecting to a performance that implied blackface, and other incidents specifically involving anti-black racism on set. 

Was Union not practicing self-care, as well as care for her community members, by objecting to racism and other aspects of an unsafe work environment? I’m curious to see if those who rushed to Driver’s defense–– even giving him armchair psychiatric diagnoses based on a couple of cobbled-together comments from interviews over the course of the last few years–– would rush to Union’s defense so quickly and publicly, let alone use language of self-care and mental health to legitimize their commentary. Not only did this discrepancy play out in social media, but it had an even more tangible effect: Union’s loss of her job. Her firing brings to light the ways in which black women and other marginalized people practicing self-advocacy in the workplace are labeled as difficult and unlikeable, often at the expense, as in Union's case, of their livelihood. 

Media coverage is a complex machine, made only more thorny by the advent of Twitter and the overlap between social media, traditional journalism, and personal writing that has emerged as a trademark of internet journalism in the 21st century. The media is, of course, not exempt from the white supremacist, capitalist, hetero-patriarchal, and otherwise prejudiced system that governs our world. It is important to realize, however, that not only does the media reflect power, it conveys power, and that’s why Terry Gross is not the only person who should care that Adam Driver walked out on her interview. We should all care, because media coverage of Driver’s walkout works to uphold the power dynamics that got Union fired. Privilege and identity are inextricably intertwined with media coverage, and when it comes to language about self-care and mental health (especially given the disadvantages that black women face when getting access to actual mental health care), it is impossible to ignore the power imbalance that is being upheld by such media coverage. 

In the end, I guess my Adam Driver rage is more like structural inequality rage. I definitely don’t think it’s a bad thing that Driver stood up for himself in that moment. I just wish we lived in a society that allowed everyone to set boundaries, self-advocate, and practice all forms of self-care! There are lots of different ways that we can work towards that society, including registering to vote and exercising your voting privilege if you are able, advocating for anti-racist workplace policies, using your voice out loud to be a good ally to those less privileged  than you, and interrogating your own role as a consumer of popular media. I’m going to work on doing all of those things in order to help me combat my structural inequality rage. Sorry, Adam Driver. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, and I do like your Sondheim karaoke scene.

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Lily Shell is a grad student in Interdisciplinary Theatre Studies at The University of Wisconsin-Madison. When she’s not on her porch swing there, she’s in NYC or Vermont, or online yelling into the void about TV and/or Harry Styles – take a look on Twitter or Instagram.

Lisa Franklin is a cartoonist and writer from New York. You can read her webcomic, My Two Lesbian Ants, on Instagram or Twitter

 
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