For me, this movie was centered around language. The way we communicate. Do we find a commonality or a sense of solidarity with people whose language we share? Taking that one step further, do we feel a sense of disconnect with people with whom we cannot communicate using a common language? In Babel, the lack of communication-- more specifically, the language barriers-- create unfortunate circumstances with the most severe of consequences. These consequences were often a result of fear. Fear of the "other", the "stranger", the "foreign".
Of the story lines depicting an undying desire to communicate, Chieko (the Japansese girl who is deaf) seems most longing. She cannot use her mouth to speak, to feel a connection with others. So she resorts to using her body. I thought it was interesting, though, that the director decided to use this particular girl as the one whose body is constantly on display. Is it intentional? Considering the often hypersexualized body of Asian women, it seems likely. (What I am about to say is completely irrelevant to the movie's relation to transnational feminism… but, did anyone else feel like perhaps there was an inappropriate relationship between Chieko and her father? I have mentioned this to others who have seen the movie, but they didn't take that away from it.)
Another story line I found particularly interesting was the Mexican woman taking care of two white children. This woman was treated as a total criminal, someone doing something unforgivably wrong. We saw, through how she cared for the children, that she obviously did not deserve to be treated that way. However, I became aware of my own biases as we continue learning her story. I kept wondering, "What about the children? Where are the kids?" Why was their story more important for me to hear? Is it because of their age or because I see that familial structure more affected by tragedy? I don't know.
The link between the foreign to terrorism (as seen with the young kids) or crime (the Mexican woman) is really preposterous. Is there any solidarity, though? How can we, as people living in the United States, change this lens? Can we? Should we?
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