6 minute read
First Loves: A Guiding Light
ARTS first loves: a guiding light
OUR FAVORITE MEDIA’S ODES TO FIRST LOVES, AND THE INDELIBLE PATHS THEY FORM
Written by Nina Johnson, Arts Editorial Assistant Photographed by Hannah Huber, Staff Photographer, and Tara Osbourne, Contributing Photographer Makeup by Nicole Escobia, Staff Makeup Artist, and Samantha Rubinstein, Staff Makeup Artist Videography by Yejin Kim, Staff Videographer | Modeled by Najma Hurre and Chris Ziebert Styled by Erin Galioto, Fashion Staff Member
When conceptualizing first loves, I like to think of them as a lighthouse. They’re similar to the physical structure in Virginia Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse,” which endlessly guides the beloved Ramsay family out of their growing pains and into adulthood—a fervent, irrevocable force. Woolf’s lighthouse shares a striking similarity to our first experiences with love. So does the writing of André Aciman, the acclaimed author known for first-love fiction, who verbalized the guidepost that this love elicits best, for both readers and lovers: “Everywhere I go, everyone I see and crave is ultimately measured by the glow of your light. If my life were a boat, you were the one who stepped on board, turned on its running lights, and was never heard from again. All this might as well be in my head, and in my head it stays. But I’ve lived and loved by your light alone. In a bus, on a busy street, in class, in a crowded concert hall, once or twice a year, whether for a man or a woman, my heart still jolts when I spot your lookalike. We love only once in our lives, my father had said, sometimes too early, sometimes too late; the other times are always a touch deliberate.”1
This narrative of “first loves” routinely appears in books and movies. It’s beautiful, often relatable and oh-so poetic. Although each story’s depiction varies, the label of a “first love” carries with it the assumed weight of a lasting impact. Whether cliche or a firmly held belief, we understand that first love is important. What, exactly, are we supposed to take away from these narratives in art though? How do we place them into our own lives?
We often use fiction to help us tease out our real emotions. Regarding love, it’s easy to feel trapped in the past or enveloped by the future. Yet books and movies ground us in the present, while still honoring our younger selves and providing us with hope for a love-filled future that’s up to us to mold.
The media we consume now may focus more on adult, grown-up and post-teenage love, but much of the media’s romantic turmoil is geared toward new teens. The movie “13 Going on 30” is one example, as well as young adult series like “The Selection” and “The Hunger Games.” Each of these has the common theme of a heroine undergoing some sort of life-altering trauma while in a transformative phase of their life. Even if they don’t end up with their first love, much of their story is woven by what was learned from that experience. Soon, however, teenage-dom ends and leaves us with the question: What occurs post-first love? While there’s magic in first love stories themselves, what remains is how we move forward from this experience—both for fictional characters, and ourselves. If our first love informs us, these different forms of media provide us with various ways to conceptualize these formative emotions.
Films such as “13 Going on 30,” “One Day” and “Call Me By Your Name” offer (fictional) anecdotal testimonials of what it means to grow up after this love occurs. For some, it means finding their way back to that person, and for others, it means living in the light of what the experience taught them about themselves. As each protagonist grows older, they fondly look back on the emotions they once felt so deeply, but age provides a clearer sense of the bigger picture.
Perhaps a first love brought out a certain emotional depth you weren’t aware of yet, a depth that you’ll carry into your relationships in the future. This concept extends into novels that touch on relationships beyond that “first” one: “Writers & Lovers,” “Americanah,” “The Sense of an Ending” and “Conversations with Friends” are a few modern, striking novels that portray the complexities of cyclical relationship patterns, often stemming from a youthful love.
Aspects of how we act or don’t act, treat others and show love in relationships often follow from partner to partner— and usually not in a bad way. It is, however, still our job to recognize negative patterns, as well as show up to improve upon them. It is a powerful thing to call ourselves out on behavior that may seem like an integral part of who we are because sometimes it is hurting us and those we love. In our favorite films and books, equally flawed and lovable characters may point out something that could have gone unnoticed in our own character.
The lamentations and poeticism in Marquez’s “Love in the Time of Cholera” and Coehlo’s “By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept” both boil down to one thing: love, and how we keep living through it. Most of the renowned modern literature on first loves totes femininity from the first person. These incredible novels bring a new voice to the table of love and dutifully trace how the impact of loving another person can easily transcend decades.
In many narratives of first love, the notion of “virginity” is often looming, either indirectly or explicitly. Sex is an important part of healthy partnerships for many people. Do we, as consumers of Western film and literature, unknowingly obsess over the sacred virginities of a character a bit too much? As I—a self-proclaimed, sex-positive feminist— sift through my favorite movies and books which ultimately defined who I am, I continually question whether I’m giving virginity more power than intended. The moral obligations we tie to women and virginity have been turned over for centuries. While these rigid ideas of femininity may appear ostensibly vague in these stories, critics argue that forms of
media offer new ways for us to store these antiquated notions.2
New novels and films about first loves will grow alongside the fluidity of sexuality and love. The cultural nuances behind virginity remain another wall to scale. As writers and directors, it’s a daunting task to simultaneously reduce the constructed and misogynistic understanding of virginity, while still emphasizing the importance of doing what’s best for you. “The Sex Lives of College Girls,” one of HBO’s newest installments, tackles this complexity. New media will beg the question: how can liberation and safety best coexist in love and relationships?
It might not be clear, but the first love narrative is not the main takeaway from our favorite media—it’s not the attainable goal we may think it to be. But watching different relationships materialize through fiction often teaches us something. Seeking out these messages in media guides us to crucial conclusions regarding our muddled stories of first loves and heartbreaks.
Not everyone’s first love will remain an important person to them forever. But that partner’s previous importance to our younger selves informs our present and future relationships. So stretch out a hand to that younger version of yourself, watch and read that endearing romance and clear up anything that might have been left unsaid. Do not let that guiding light of love go unnamed or unnoticed, because it will find a way to come up—regardless. ■
