A Panel on Jack Dawson’s Death in Titanic
I am rarely insecure. When Rose DeWitt Bukater told me she wanted to explore her feelings for Jack Dawson, I was happy for her. I encouraged her to date other people because my job on the Titanic often required me to pivot.
At first, things were amazing. We coordinated date night schedules. I was even the one who suggested, “I bet if you pick Rose up and balance her on the bow of the ship, she’ll be like, ‘I’m flying, Jack.’”
Jack had a childlike generosity, but he could also be viciously petty. One night, he did a nude portrait of Rose, and Rose said, “Now do a portrait of me and Door.”
Jack’s response was, “No.” Then he, like, folded up his charcoal drawing set and left the cabin.
Whether Jack just had a really specific artistic vision, or simply didn’t want me in the portrait out of jealousy, we reassured him that honesty and safety were the sole requirements of the relationship. Still, he was unwilling to process his experience with us, or provide information that would have helped everyone meet each other’s needs, leading him to become closed off, distrustful, and ultimately more self-sabotaging.
Another night Jack said, “I’m taking Rose to Irish Jig Core Rave at the pop-up DIY underground anarchist space in the hull of the ship.”
I said, “It’s my one night off. Could I go too? It’ll be unhinged!”
Jack got really quiet and said, “I didn’t know it was your one night off. I was thinking just me and Rose. I planned this.”
I had clearly written, "Door's one night off!!!! XOXO LET’S DO SOMETHING FUN <3" in the group calendar. I didn’t see Irish Jig Core Rave anywhere. After that, everything got so weird.
When the Titanic hit an iceberg, it was like the final manifestation of my boundaries being disrespected. Then, drifting out into the ocean amidst the mass destruction, I realized I wanted to save the relationship.
Rose climbed out of the water on top of me, and we were like “C’mon Jack, there’s plenty of room.”
Jack said, “You obviously want it to be exclusively you two. I’ll just tread water.”
I said, “What are you talking about? You can both obviously fit on top of me without sinking. Anyway, you’re the ones who ghosted me the night of Irish Jig Core Rave.”
Then, Rose said, “Wait, what? Jack, you told me Door was working that night.”
“Screw Irish Jig Core Rave,” said Jack. “You always try to make me the bad person.”
…And you always call me a “bootlicker” for being the only one in this relationship with a job, I thought, but at that point, we all had to not die. I said, “I’m sorry. Could we talk about it on shore? Get on top of me. I'll be your life raft until a rescue boat arrives. There's room for both you and Rose.”
Jack said, “I’m not getting on top of you. I don't want your charity.”
I said, “I don’t want you to get hypothermia.”
Then, Jack lost it. “You don’t want me? Because I’m an unemployed stowaway with no money? I don’t want your ornate moulding or your thick coats of paint.”
“I wasn't always so gilded. I come from a lumberyard,” I pleaded. “We cannot allow our shame and silence to build walls. That’s why I love being Door, so I can let others in.”
“…And shut them out whenever it’s convenient,” said Jack, his teeth chattering, his lips blue. "Y'know, technically," he continued venomously, “you’re not even a door. You’re a panel. How about we all float on top of me for a change. Or am I not good enough?”
Jack lay face down in the frozen water and straightened his body like a plank. Rose said, “Let’s do this for Jack. He needs the validation.”
By then, the dynamic was so toxic that I dissociated. Rose got on top of Jack, and I got on top of Rose. We were like, “Jack, you’re amazing at this. Your body is super stiff.” Then, Jack started to sink. We tried to save him, but he was lifeless.
To preserve the dignity of Jack’s memory, we told the world he sacrificed himself for Rose, but I now understand the harm perpetuated by a narrative enabling problematic social standards in an emergency scenario. I formally apologize to anyone who expressed doubt that it was necessary for Jack Dawson to drown at the end of Titanic only to be dismissed as a conspiracy theorist. Though we possessed the resources to save Jack, we failed him, and I will always regret the role I played in this tragedy as gatekeeper.
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