Making a Scene by Constance Wu was a memoir that showed what it means to fight to be seen in a world that renders you invisible. I don’t mean this in the sense that Constance Wu is seeking attention, and this is why she became an actress. What I got from this book is that she wanted to be seen, like seen for who she is and understood. This is what this book said to me.

In the memoir world, it is dominated by trauma porn. Let me show you how absolutely tragic my life is, and how I made it. Triumph is alluring, but the dramatics of trauma is addicting.

A common theme that came out in all of the stories Wu decided to tell was not feeling enough. Again, please don’t misunderstand that I say this to mean that Wu did not feel enough. Reading these stories made me feel like she was grappling with why the things in her life affected her so. I felt a sense of bravery telling the stories others might not deem “bad enough”.

Wu starts out the book talking about a very cute love story that ended in the way only humans would sabotage relationships. There are other romances she talks about throughout the book, and none of them are really steamy or romance-novel worthy. These relationships are human, but she felt very deeply for these men.

Not everyone will experience a love equivalent to Lino and Amy on From Scratch. We all want to love and be loved. And even though these weren’t some great, passionate love stories, her emotions were real. Her love story is worth telling.

I really connected with Wu when she talked about the complicated relationship with her mother. Her mother was very suburban, doing all the housewife things to take care of her kids. Wu’s parents didn’t inflict any ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences) onto her. She had a safe and normal childhood.

That doesn’t mean the things we learn to adapt to in childhood don’t stay with us for the rest of our lives. When one of the worst things that happened to you was a teacher accusing you of cheating, you had a pretty good childhood. But it is how that (like doubting your ability and working so hard to prove yourself to other people) stays with us for life. Her coming-of-age story is worth telling.

Wu’s experience of sexual assault and sexual harassment really stood out to me. What Wu experienced could have been worse, and she explicitly talks about this. But that doesn’t negate the fact that it happened to her. She had sex that she did not consent to, sex in which someone coerced her. She was harassed by a boss where she felt like she couldn’t say no to, and worse, felt like she had to do these things to please him.

Wu is not a liar. She is not someone sharing these experiences to ruin the men who chose to behave this way toward her. Wu is creating nuance for all the women who feel like their experiences with sexual assault and harassment aren’t bad enough to receive love and support. Her story is worth telling.

Constance Wu’s memoir may not have been the trauma porn I am guilty of taking deep satisfaction from, but it left an impression on me. It gave me permission to be myself out loud, no matter how unremarkable I may think I am. If I want people to understand me, I need to make a scene.