roman polanski
i have been asked what i think
about his arrest

eve ensler wrote this for the huffington post
it says all i wanted to


"When I saw the petition protesting the recent arrest of Roman Polanski in Switzerland was signed by some of my most cherished artists -- the likes of Pedro Almodovar, Ariel Dorfman, Costa Gavras, Jonathan Demme, Sam Mendes -- men who I believed to be champions of women's and human rights, frankly, I was shocked. It made it distressingly clear to me that all our years of work have not yet penetrated or changed the culture so that it understands that rape is a legal crime and a crime against the soul. As a survivor, I can attest to the fact that rape forever changes your life, robbing you of dignity, self-worth, agency over your body, and comfortability with intimacy and trust, while also escalating a pervasive sense of isolation and shame.
After 11 years of traveling the world and meeting with rape survivors across the planet I can say that the long-term consequences are multiple and far-reaching, ranging from homelessness, drug abuse, and eating disorders, to imprisonment, suicide, and early death.
The petition defending Polanski doesn't even address his crime. Instead, it calls it a "case of morals." That expression -- a "case of morals" -- takes the anti-violence movement back about a hundred years. Rape is not a question of morals. In fact it's not even a question.
Let's review the facts:
1. A 13-year-old girl is lured to a house by promise of a job by a famous and powerful director.
2. She finds herself in a hot tub.
3. She has an asthma attack.
4. The director says he will help relieve her asthma attack and offers her (unbeknownst to her) half a Quaalude as a remedy.
5. Once the Quaalude takes effect and the girl is sufficiently pliant, he rapes and sodomizes her without consent.
6. When charges are pressed, the director later pleads guilty to "engaging in unlawful sexual intercourse with a minor."
7. After spending 42 days in prison, the director flees the United States to avoid the threat of further imprisonment.
What about this clear-cut case isn't criminal? Does Roman Polanski's undeniable brilliance as a filmmaker somehow not make him a rapist? Does his talent give license to violence? Does the brotherhood of fame endow you with a lifetime exemption from accountability?
No one is arguing the genius of Roman Polanski, or even the pain and tragedy of his difficult life. But in the end, that has nothing to do with the crime he committed. Being an artist does not make any of us exempt from the laws of humanity -- in fact, it actually makes us more responsible to them."

once again
eve ensler
super hero
bravo and amen

It is a beautiful spring day in May, and I am pruning my boxwoods. I planted them seven years ago with the intention of having a major topiary experience, but most years I find myself editing them to their most essential square. When pruning boxwoods, it is recommended that you not cut into the leaf. You must find the "Y" in the twig and cut it from there, otherwise you risk harming the shrub's growth. I find this small yet precise move, leading to a large overall effect, very familiar.

A dozen years ago the question of where I was going got louder than anything else in my head. My life had taken a certain trajectory into the world of films and stardom when I was quite young, and I hadn't stopped to question it. But in truth, it was like wanting a pony for your birthday and getting a big shiny merry-go-round instead.

Although I have participated in the odd film project here and there over the last twelve years, I had no real desire to hop back on that merry-go-round. I watched others as they grabbed for the golden ring and felt fine out in the country on my pony. It is a strange experience to be so in a certain world, and then not. I tried to imagine how to start anew.

I collected doors: odd ones from barns, farms, homes, and from my travels. I have dreamed of them in the forest, imagining myself walking through just the right one when I need a boost. I see them as thresholds to newness. Transformations can begin with a start.

Once, my friend and mentor James Bridges found me hiding under the covers, as I often did when I finished a job. I always felt that the roles I accepted must be inextricably linked to my life if I were to keep finding the passion to fuel each job. I had been to the desert making a film, and now everything in my life looked different. He quoted, "She took to her bed to lose her looks."
Charles Dickens, I think. It always made me smile. I could never quite decide if it was about the way the world looked at me or about the way I looked at the world.

I am always searching for the next door, the next role, the next change.

But right now I am pruning boxwoods, twelve to be exact, and I am wondering just how long it will take my mind to stop chattering and allow me to write. A fat red robin with the most laughably blue eggs in its nest is flying to the mud beneath the mailbox, hunting worms like letters from the earth. I want her to come and write this preface.

This morning in May, I am cutting boxwoods, pre-face and after-words on the threshold of my slender volume, with no instructions, directives, or map -- just a sort of pruning of a dozen years to their essential square.Copyright © 2008 by Debra Winger