My newest research venture is, by default, YA Dystopia. And "by default" I mean because I am completely obsessed with dystopia in general, but I am particularly addicted to YA dystopia with female protagonists. I call these my "crack books" because I quite literally cannot stop reading them. I can't stop reading without concerted effort and when I put down one and pick up another. Life isn't the same without being engaged in this other world for part of the time. And so of course that obsession extends itself into a kernel for teaching and research.

My real interest in dystopia came via Octavia Butler's novels and Star Trek fantasies (next Gen, of course!). My YA obsession began, predictably, with the Hunger Games. Before I was a third of the way through I ordered the next two books because I didn't want to have any interruption in my reading experience. I read straight through. And I had to find more. I worried I would never find another  reading experience like HG. While I read plenty of books that did not fall into this "narrow" category, some related and some not, I read books like the Birthmarked trilogy and the Chemical Garden trilogy and my less favorite works that focus more on boys: the Maze Runner Trilogy and the Ender's Game series. But there is so much more!

When I began to find monotony in the plot and characters/characteristics of the protagonists, I was floored when my friend forwarded me a link to a blog via Bitch Magazine. This was exactly what I had been looking for, hoping for, longing for--books that had protagonists who were girls of color. Visions of the future that consider how race, ethnicity, and identity are factors in the future. This discovery is what sparked my interest in looking at YA Dystopia as more than just an obsessive fan. There is way too much to explore (and that's exciting!).

In the spring of 2015 I will be teaching an online topics course called "Girls on Fire: Gender, Culture, and Justice in YA Dystopia." When I proposed this course one of my colleagues suggested I spell out what "YA" is. Half joking, I told him that anyone who doesn't know what YA is, I don't want them in this course! There are so many other  readers out there who are interested in this genre and read just as--or almost as--voraciously as I do. I know this class will be in demand.

This interdisciplinary course is cross-listed between American studies, English, and Women's, Gender, and Sexuality studies and will consider the topics in the title as well as race, community, power, sexuality, technology, the environment, politics, etc. I am excited about the projects that we will engage with to explore this rich body of work. I'll be teaching online and developing resources related to the genre, including a guide to the best books.

Inevitably I'll be working on a book project related to this work as well. In many ways it mirrors the body of work that I explored in my first book, Pictures of Girlhood: Modern Female Adolescence on Film. YA Dystopia has many of the same themes--coming of age, absent parents, violence, limited representations, etc.--but it also has the context of the future and the bigger picture of the fate of the world (or at least a little piece of that world). These "girls on fire" give us hope in the present for the future.

Josh Stolberg, the writer/director of the film Kids in America says, on the official website, that he made this film in order to “affect positive change.” The fictionalized story was created based upon the “real-life” experiences of “kids” who have been suspended or expelled from their schools because of the political statements that they have made. Three of these stories are offered in testimonials at the end of the film—one girl who attached condoms to her shirt to promote safe sex, one girl who wore a “Barbie is a Lesbian” shirt to class, and one girl who wrote a short story about a girl who falls asleep in class and dreams of shooting her math teacher. Each girl tells her story and talks about having the support of her parent(s) throughout the ordeal. This element of the film is powerful and potentially empowering to young people; however, the way in which this fictional story is created tells more about the biases of the writer/director and his inability to imagine a story or a film outside the confines of patriarchy and white supremacy than it does to model the “real” stories of “kids in America.”
 
The racial and gender politics of this film subscribe to the typical characterizations found in most mainstream teen films. For instance, despite the fact that all three testimonials are offered by girls, this film is focused on the rebellious-ring-leader white boy, Holden, who leads a group of “diverse” young adults in their struggles. His girlfriend, Charlotte, the passionate-political white girl fights well on her own, but often steps aside or supports Holden’s efforts. The rest of the group consists of the fat-pervert white boy, the outrageously-gay white boy, the blond-cheerleader white girl, the goody-two-shoes Asian girl, and the militant black-girl-with-attitude.  Each of these characters plays into their stereotypical roles in ways that are supposed to be funny, but mostly just expose the ignorance, if not racism and sexism, of the filmmakers. For instance, in a totally superfluous scene the cheerleader wears a skimpy outfit and seduces the captain of the football team to help with their plan. In another scene, Emily, tries to avoid police questioning by first claiming she “no speak-a English” and then offering a “spring roll.” When neither approach works, she offers “a licky licky.”  
  
What’s worse than the racial and gender stereotypes that this film relies upon for its humor is the ways in which the film skews the stories of teens who have been the victims of school authorities. For instance, the only gay character is not a girl, but a boy who is gay because of his love of musical theatre and his flamboyant personality.  Further, the girl in the film who gets
suspended for wearing condoms on her shirt is a cute, skinny, blond girl (opposite of the young woman who gives the testimonial at the end of the film) who makes this statement because she is the founder of the school’s celibacy society. The “real” girl’s similar statement was made because her mother had HIV before she died and she wanted to help protect her classmates from a similar fate.  In both of these cases, the “real-life” stories are white-washed and made more palatable to a mainstream U.S. audience.

Perhaps the filmmakers assumed that these representations would be over-shadowed by the representation of the favorite teacher who inspires and pushes the students—a black man who used to make documentaries and now teaches high school.  He is juxtaposed by the blond, white principal who acts as tyrannical dictator (Ann Coulter style). Mr. Drucker is a strong,
admirable character; however, in an outtake available on the DVD, he acts like a stereotypical (black) man as he stares at, and comments about, the principal’s back side as she walks past him.
 
There are some powerful aspects of this film, like the exposure of the growing fascism of school administrations (and the U.S. government more generally) and the power of “kids” to fight the power when they work together. However, these “kids” fail to fight for a specific cause. Instead, they only fight against the election of Principal Weller to the position of State School Superintendent. This film is steeped in liberalism as the students don’t fight for a vision for a better school or better society, but
against the local dictator. Further, they are successful in blocking Principal Weller’s election, but more importantly, their actions lead to college admissions for all of these middle-to-upper-class “kids.” Ultimately, Kids in America says more about adults’ limited visions than it does about possibilities for the future.

Charlyne Yi’s film Paper Heart pushes at the edges of popular ideas of romance and love as well as the boundaries of “girls’ film.” In its mix of scripted plot and documentary, this “mockumentary” style  film not only complicates ideas about girls’ film but also ideas of love and romance and the expectations that we have for girls in American culture.
Yi first gained mainstream recognition for her “stoner” role in Knocked Up which helped to gain some attention for her film, Paper Heart. In fact, many of the friends interviewed in Paper Heart are also comedians and several are in recent films and TV shows. And all of these friends are men. At one point, Yi and her director (fellow actor Jake Johnson playing Nick Jasenovic) comments that she wants to be one of the guys and she says that she is one of the guys. And as a quirky, goofy comedian, singer, songwriter, painter she fits right in. This film firmly establishes her talent amongst the popular young comedians who dominate film and
TV. Both Yi and the real Jasenovic won the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award for the dramatic category at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival. 

Charlyne Yi plays a scripted version of herself as does Michael Cera while Jake Johnson plays a scripted version of director, Nick Jasonevic. In the midst of this scripted film, Yi also plays herself making a documentary where she interviews an assortment of people about their views on love. The DVD also provides a variety of deleted scenes and other special features that offer a closer look into the film, and into Yi’s comedy, and also reveal some insights into what went into making Paper Heart. Even with all of these pieces, Paper Heart defies categorization and definition. It ironically challenges the omnipresence of film crews in the lives of celebrities and reality TV stars and deliberately mixes fact and fiction. Yi’s talents are showcased, real ordinary people’s ideas are considered, celebrity is tapped, and the audience gets an entertaining and thought-provoking film. 

Aside from the film there are other aspects that must be considered when looking at Paper Heart as a girls’ film. As mentioned above, all of the other actors and comedians in this film are young men and Yi fits right in. She fits in with her sarcasm, wit, humor, and style and she is accepted amongst her peers. And as a peer she establishes a sub-narrative in this film about love as these young men see it. She questions the existence of love in the midst of men who assure her that love does exist; in fact, the only female friend who is consulted gives her take during a phone conversation with the director-actor. In some ways this depiction of love is a kind of role reversal from masculine and feminine stereotypes and in other ways this exploration of love allows Yi to exist almost completely outside of her gender and race.

If the subject of  the film was not “love,” then perhaps Yi might have been able to escape the familiar traps of gender. But in many ways she complicated, diverts, or undermines gendered expectations. For instance, when Yi does what can be expected in a film about a girl searching for love—like trying on a wedding dress—the brief moment that this scene occupies, and the total lack of interest or comfort that this ritual conveys, subverts the usual high-pitched ooing and awing that often accompanies such displays of heterosexual normality. Yi’s gender identity is made virtually invisible in this film and in her professional persona. She retains her status as one of the guys throughout the film as Nick fulfills the role of best friend and her pursuit of love happens almost reluctantly. Michael Cera’s character reveals heterosexuality and their courting (for lack of a better term) which includes very few stereotypical feminine/masculine roles, perhaps in part because of Michael Cera’s perceived innocence and awkwardness and Yi’s own awkwardness and sexlessness. The ever-present cameras help to increase the awkwardness and are a good excuse for a lack of physical expression, even if these elements are scripted.

In addition to invisibility concerning her gender identity, Yi’s racial/ethnic identity is also made invisible, even more so than her gender. Despite the fact that Yi is of mixed racial heritage and “looks Asian”, her ethnic/racial identity is never a topic of a joke or any conversation in the film. It is never mentioned and she is, for the most part, the only non-white comedian in the film or in her cadre of peers. This is, of course, refreshing to an extent. Yi is allowed to just “be herself” and she has control over the persona we are seeing. This alone accounts for the lack of stereotypes and casting limitations that are typical for girls and women (particularly girls and women of color) in film and especially in comedy. It is because of this lack of engagement with
racial or ethnic identities or issues that Yi is able to maintain her racial/ethnic invisibility and her uniqueness. She is just one of the (white) guys who happens to be a cute/nerdy girl.

Charlyne Yi might be talking to people about love, but because this is an abstract idea, she is able to mostly detach love from the body. In fact, initially the film that Yi intended to make was a documentary and she did not intend to be on camera.  Love is discussed for its physiological and neurological effects (physical qualities that are independent of physical appearance) as
she interviews scientists, but love is mostly discussed abstractly, mostly heterosexually, and mostly romantically. The brief departures are too far and few between—when she interviews a gay couple (men) and when biker’s tell her that their friendships are the truest kind of love, for instance. Yi’s spontaneous interviews with children also provide for a variety of
view points on the subject of love and reveal just how much children internalize cultural messages about love and romance.

Part of the beauty of this film is that amidst these conflicting cultural massages about love is a film that purposely confuses the line between real and not real. Because of this confusion there was also confusion over just how much of the film was “real,” particularly regarding the fictional romance between Cera and Yi that was purported as real in a variety of film reviews and promotions. At least some of the film’s success can be attributed to the role that Cera played by playing himself and that many fans and critics confused the film for reality. In a N.Y. Times article published just before the theatrical release of Paper
Heart, Dave Itskoff writes: “Ms. Yi’s choice of Mr. Cera for this role would seem deliberate, even daring, given that the two are widely reported to have been romantically involved in real life. But Ms. Yi declined to discuss her history with Mr. Cera. ‘Whether or not me and Michael are together or were ever together is irrelevant,’ she said. ‘We’re acting, and we’re also friends, so that doesn’t make it difficult.’” And, yet, even the press for Paper Heart seems to be contradictory as Yi has had to answer questions about her relationship with Cera and most of Yi’s post-film press has been about this relationship. Cera, on the other hand, has other films and his growing fame to talk about. Being linked with Yi only gives him more star power, especially since the tabloids report how he dumped her because of his mega-fame. 

And yet, I think Yi holds her own against these interrogations (and perhaps as a result doesn’t seem to get a whole lot of post-Paper Heart work). In an interview in August 2009, Yi remarks, “Someone sent me an article that I was really sad. It says that
I'm sad that we're touring together.” She dismisses this conjecture with the fact that Cera is working on another film, only one answer in her arsenal. The public interest, verging on obsession, with the status of Yi and Cera’s relationship not only speaks to our celebrity-obsessed culture but also to our obsession with romance and sexuality—at least the fictionalized versions.