I’m about to write a post that is touchy and that might get me some flack, but I’m going to write it and I welcome any comments and insights. Last night, I rented a movie called If Beale Street Could Talk. Although the movies is based on a story by James Baldwin, it was written and directed by Barry Jenkins, the same writer and director of Moonlight. I didn’t like the movie. I found it slow moving and I found it hard to connect emotionally with the characters. I found the characters to be extreme, unbalanced, unrealistic and less than believable. But here’s the rub, I went into watching the movie, really wanting to like it. Why? Honestly, because I am a white woman and the movie is played by a mostly black cast. The movie depicts the unfair treatment one man faced when being wrongly accused of a crime, due to the vengeance of a racist police officer. The movie takes place in a city neighborhood mostly inhabited by black people.
I don’t believe that I am racist. Everything in my heart, soul and mind knows that racism is wrong. So, I have to ask myself, is it racist to want to like a movie, before even seeing it, because it is telling the story of the struggles many African-Americans face (struggles, that as a white woman who has always lived in upper-middle-class, mostly white neighborhoods can’t even begin to understand)? I don’t go into movies with mostly white casts, thinking, “I really hope that I like this movie.” I either like the movie or I don’t. But even at this point, I struggle to admit that I didn’t like If Beale Street Could Talk. I feel like I should like the film. I feel like by admitting that I didn’t like it, that I am perhaps not cultured enough to truly understand the greatness of the film. I feel like I am thinking way too much about this one movie. And all of the above statements, make me question my own personal views. If I am truly not racist, than every movie I watch would be judged the same way. I shouldn’t give any more thought to one movie or another. I either like the movie, I don’t – end of story.
I have these same struggles with my views on sexism. I am woman, for goodness sake! Of course I am not sexist! So why is it that I feel guilty about our choice of companies for our renovation project? We had three sales people give us quotes. Two of the sales people were women, and one was a man. We went with the man’s company. I am a woman who wants to support other women, but we honestly liked what the man’s company offered and designed, versus what the women’s companies offered. If I were truly not a sexist person, though, this thought wouldn’t even cross my mind, correct? If there is no sexism involved, whoever’s offer is best is what you go with, right? My husband and I both felt most comfortable with the man and his company. Did my husband relate more to the man? If he did, would that make him sexist?
I hope that my honesty hasn’t offended anyone. That is not my intention. I like to learn and grow and see things from all different perspectives. Perhaps the bigger issue here, is that I think and analyze just too damn much. I don’t know.
When my youngest son was a little boy and we lived in a different state, his best friend was black. His best friend’s parents were two older white people.
“Does J. ever talk about being adopted?” I asked him.
My son was aghast. His mouth dropped open. “J. is adopted?!?!” he asked.
My son then told his other friend in our car that J. was adopted.
His friend was aghast. “What?!? How do you know?!?”
“My mom told me,” my son said.
Maybe if we told our children less, we could be as wise as they are, without definitions, fears, intellectual arguments and smugness. Maybe we could learn again to just see the world through the unfiltered lens of childrens’ eyes. That lens is the only lens that matters – that lens is the lens of Love.
