When we walked out of Black Klanmsman last Sunday, it wasn’t because it was poorly done.
Nothing close. The film was so well done that I had to think as the mother of 13-year-old, “what am I imprinting in the mind of my son?” And even then, I gave both kids the choice to leave.
My daughter stayed and as a junior taking AP US History that makes sense. My son opted to walk away with me.
We knew the movie was about race. It wasn’t a comedy though. We had heard some of it was funny. Just because you laugh sometimes, doesn’t make something funny. In the film, there is diffusion of tension with humor - accurately placed to relieve the pressure of the discomfort and disbelief as the story builds.
What I didn’t know was how much the movie was about the powerlessness of women.
I queried my kids right after the moment when the Klan, supported by a Klan wife, were focusing on an outspoken woman – the Black Student Alliance leader. Damning her to sexual violence, as people do, when rape represents a self-indulgent tantrum for a world where they feel wronged.
Does my son benefit from this imprint? What about my daughter? Then, I still let them choose. It was a hard thing to do as a parent.
As women, we live in a systemically defined powerlessness that involves our sexuality. It’s not just physical or emotional violence that people could beat us down or shoot us in their expressed violence to quell their rage. No, that’s the same sex respect upheld in unleashing anger and everyone deals with that fear.
There is a dynamic male-female violence where the violation must also sexually arouse the perpetrator(s). Violence, rage, demeaning, assault, even the shit-talk that prefaces the behavior are a twisted indulgent pleasure for those unable to process their human sexual emotions.
It’s wrong and misguided. It’s externalized. It screams lack of personal development. But, it results primarily in powerlessness. The perpetrator(s) seeks power that they do not have and never attain. They wreak havoc on another’s life, all the while, never satisfying their craven search for power. And, the the victim remains in a society, nowhere in which she has her full power.
I didn’t want my son to witness that moment. Not at 13
I remember my parents going out. When we were little, we were all involved in the primping. As we got older, in my memory of childhood, my sisters, one sister in particular was the most reliable in cheering my mother on, giving her that extra zipper hand, and being lovingly all up in her business. Just like this darling young man. Our daughter checked in on us with some last minute punny jokes - she literally pulled on her Dad's leg while he was lying on the bed waiting for me. We laughed at it all. And she and her brother warned us not to wake the dog when we came home. Then, she made herself, her younger brother's energy place and we slipped out. We all have our role in these family structures. I was glad for my selfie companion and my selfie companion's sound mind companion. In all of our happiness, I was surrounded with the aliveness of the many times the ritual of going out had happened in my childhood. How grown up my parents seemed! They were just in their mid 30's.
It was nice to settle into that feeling of being grown and be more present for how we were all experiencing life in the going out prep. Here’s what I wanted to give in this moment 1. Kids are a blessing. I wanted them to feel that. 2. Life is to be enjoyed. I hope the giggling imprinted that. 3. We do our best that we can to appreciate the greatness of every moment -- was the kindness I offered myself. 4. I reminded myself with gratitude that the greatness of that moment had taken time. The time to become the adult primping and the time to be child with all those warm memories.
So, I was talking to my Dad yesterday. And he said that “you never see young people on the street anymore. Not one who looks willing to hold a ladder, so I can go up on the roof and put up a new antenna”. “Young people nowadays” he says. Pauses. “Good thing my friend Conrad called. Had him in mind to help me out.” Should I remind my Dad that he is almost 77? Better yet, he has cable and dish. I have no idea what he signal or beloved show he gets on his antenna, short wave radio, and all other gadgets that he tinkers with. My mother would’ve 🙄 — “He’s on the roof again.” I am laughing too at the part where he is looking for a unsuspecting young person to give up an hour of their life to hold the ladder for him. It’s like straight out of some sitcom.