I just got done watching Season 3 of The Bear and I’m reminded of why I felt drawn to the show in the first place.
Carmy, the main character, is not who you’d necessarily root for as he’s known for his outbursts and being checked out in moments that he’s needed the most. Still, he is a gifted chef and his family sees something in him as they continue to support him through his newest endeavor — taking over his brother’s restaurant after he tragically committed suicide.
Even though he is clearly a talented and promising chef — a lot of his techniques, traits, and trauma spill out in the kitchen, especiallyon his right hand chef Sydney, who sees Carmy as his mentor. Maybe he doesn’t realize it, but by the third season it’s pretty clear to the viewer that Carmy hasn’t healed from his trauma and thus is affecting all the relationships arou
The final episode of Season 3 resonated with me the most. Maybe becaus it clicked in my head how similar the academic world feels to the culinary world and its network of chefs, restaurants, etc. Let’s start with the scene — it’s the last night of Carmy’s mentor’s restaurant and all these chefs are gathered to honor the restaurant one last time. Seeing the banter between Will Poulter’s character and another chef reminded me so much of over eager academics that ask their idols very specific questions about research methods, theories, specific people in their work etc etc (by the way, I am totally one of those people myself) Then when all the chefs were eating together and sharing their horror stories of working in the kitchen as well as their joys and moments of pride, very much reminds me of academia when we’re all at a conference and I hear these conversations at a banquet or in line at the registration table.
But I guess the scene that struck me the most was when Carmy confronts his old mentor, the one who verbally abused him day in and day out while Carmy was working in New York. That scene transported me back to the moments that Manang would rip me apart:
Dumb bitch.
You write like you’re in high school so I’m going to talk to you like you’re in high school.
I’m going to pay you what I think you’re worth.
I’m going to be harder on Abby because she has no excuse.
You stole this?
The whole interaction between Carmy and his ex-mentor is brutal. Carmy follows him while he’s on his way to the restroom and when he finally gets a moment alone with him all he can really say is “I’ve thought about what I would say to you if I ever saw you again.” And when his ex-mentor asks to hear it, all Carmy can say is, “Fuck you.” First of all, the mentor doesn’t even remember Carmy’s name (he calls him Bergatto instea of Berzatto) lmost mockingly before flat-out saying “I don’t think about you.” Carmy pushes this further by blurting out that he got ulcers anddeveloped panic attacks as a result of his mentor’s verbal abuse — all to which his mentor says you’re welcome back becuse he made Carmy a better chef. Then he just walks awar, leaving Carmy in an elevated, distresses state.
So I ask myself, does trauma actually make you better!? Is it worth the ulcers and the panic attacks to get good!? Is that the only way it has to be? I thought about my own parallels with Chef Carmy, the ways that I’ve internalized the trauma I inherited from Manang, both through existing in this harmful world of academia. I think of the ways I snapped at Ading, the ways I’ve subconciously reinstilled the toxicity of a culture I never wanted to be a part o. The ways I think about Manang so often and probably, just like Carmy’s mentor — doesn’t think about me at all.
“I think about you more than I should, Carmy said.
In the land where hurt people hurt more people, fuck calling it culture.
It’s your job now. Don’t perpetuate pains and call it part of the culture. Fuck that shit.
Trauma doesn’t breed excellence. Trauma breeds trauma. And more trauma. And more trauma. Be better, Bugay.
