Thoughts on The Hate U Give
This past weekend I went to see "The Hate U Give" directed by George Tillman. The movie left the audience in a bleak reflective silence. For several minutes no one left the theater. It was as though everyone was left in a sad shock at what we just watched.
"The Hate U Give" has a stark portrayal of life as an African American living in the United States. For me personally, too many parts hit a little close to home, and I had to spend a couple of days thinking about the emotions that were stirred up in me.
The main character of the movie is Starr. Starr lives two lives, the life in her urban neighborhood and the life in her suburban predominantly white school. She knows she has to keep this balance so as not to be seen as "ghetto" or as "angry black child." This duality struck a chord with me, as I'm sure it does many African Americans. I grew up in a working class family and went to a predominantly minority school most of my life. I had white friends and black friends. I dated white guys and black guys. My family didn't take summer vacations and I've had a job since I was 14 and been on my own since I was 18 living in the suburbs outside of the city. I have been on both sides of law enforcement, having worked as a 911 operator and having been stopped by police and had police called on me in my own predominantly white neighborhood more times than I care to remember. I have seen and experienced things as a black woman that make me want to scream.
In this world we as African Americans have to walk a fine line of keeping our identity but keeping it within a level that makes others comfortable. If we come across as too loud or too aggressive we can be deemed "ghetto" and our thoughts and deeds dismissed as those of a hostile black person. We can be angry, but not so much as to frighten others.
When Starr confronts her friend Hailey after the death of her friend Khalil, Hailey calls Starr a "safe black" explaining Khalil's lifestyle brought about his tragic end. The words "safe black" hit me hard. It is a term I've heard before too many times over the years. I've been called a "safe black" by both black people and white people. Safe because of my skin color or the way I speak or my level of education. I am "safe" because I speak proper English, have a college degree and fair skin. The way I speak is from training as a 911 operator. My college degree comes from working my tail off in college. My fair skin is from being one third African descent and two thirds European descent. None of these things refer to my character or my life experiences, just things that are easily seen or heard. I am safe because I make people feel comfortable because I can speak and act a certain way when I am around people who do not know me in a private setting. This does not mean I am a "safe" black, it means I know what has kept me alive and gainfully employed.
When Khalil and Starr are stopped by the police, I felt the nervous tension I feel every time I've been stopped by police. Once in Tennessee I was stopped by the police walking to the movie theater in broad daylight. The police questioned me for over 30 minutes about where I was going, where was I coming from, why was I walking, why was I in Tennessee, who was I visiting, why weren't they with me. As the questions went on and on, a second police officer rolled up and I felt both fear and anger. My jeans only had back pockets but I made sure never to reach for them, and only to reach for my waistband to get my ID. I wanted to stop answering the intrusive questions but in my head paralyzing fear gripped me. No one knew I was in Tennessee and if these two cops shot me for any perceived wrongdoing, how long before anyone would even find out? What would the smear campaign against my character look like? In the movie Khalil was portrayed by the media as a low life drug dealer who got what he had coming. Would this have been my fate? Would the police pull up my records and find I'd never had any criminal record nor even a parking ticket? Or would they discover I had once been in a mental ward of a hospital after a nervous breakdown or ran an exotic dancer company? Would I be vilified, demonized my character assassinated by the media while the cop is portrayed as a hero who never did wrong? It is fear that held me there wanting to shout but knowing I needed to stay alive.
Because in the end that's the sad reality. We as black people need to stay alive. To find a way to keep from doing or saying anything that could potentially risk our very lives. This is what was left on the screen. No answers, no resolutions just the sad realization that "The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everyone (THUG LIFE)."
"The Hate U Give" has a stark portrayal of life as an African American living in the United States. For me personally, too many parts hit a little close to home, and I had to spend a couple of days thinking about the emotions that were stirred up in me.
The main character of the movie is Starr. Starr lives two lives, the life in her urban neighborhood and the life in her suburban predominantly white school. She knows she has to keep this balance so as not to be seen as "ghetto" or as "angry black child." This duality struck a chord with me, as I'm sure it does many African Americans. I grew up in a working class family and went to a predominantly minority school most of my life. I had white friends and black friends. I dated white guys and black guys. My family didn't take summer vacations and I've had a job since I was 14 and been on my own since I was 18 living in the suburbs outside of the city. I have been on both sides of law enforcement, having worked as a 911 operator and having been stopped by police and had police called on me in my own predominantly white neighborhood more times than I care to remember. I have seen and experienced things as a black woman that make me want to scream.
In this world we as African Americans have to walk a fine line of keeping our identity but keeping it within a level that makes others comfortable. If we come across as too loud or too aggressive we can be deemed "ghetto" and our thoughts and deeds dismissed as those of a hostile black person. We can be angry, but not so much as to frighten others.
When Starr confronts her friend Hailey after the death of her friend Khalil, Hailey calls Starr a "safe black" explaining Khalil's lifestyle brought about his tragic end. The words "safe black" hit me hard. It is a term I've heard before too many times over the years. I've been called a "safe black" by both black people and white people. Safe because of my skin color or the way I speak or my level of education. I am "safe" because I speak proper English, have a college degree and fair skin. The way I speak is from training as a 911 operator. My college degree comes from working my tail off in college. My fair skin is from being one third African descent and two thirds European descent. None of these things refer to my character or my life experiences, just things that are easily seen or heard. I am safe because I make people feel comfortable because I can speak and act a certain way when I am around people who do not know me in a private setting. This does not mean I am a "safe" black, it means I know what has kept me alive and gainfully employed.
When Khalil and Starr are stopped by the police, I felt the nervous tension I feel every time I've been stopped by police. Once in Tennessee I was stopped by the police walking to the movie theater in broad daylight. The police questioned me for over 30 minutes about where I was going, where was I coming from, why was I walking, why was I in Tennessee, who was I visiting, why weren't they with me. As the questions went on and on, a second police officer rolled up and I felt both fear and anger. My jeans only had back pockets but I made sure never to reach for them, and only to reach for my waistband to get my ID. I wanted to stop answering the intrusive questions but in my head paralyzing fear gripped me. No one knew I was in Tennessee and if these two cops shot me for any perceived wrongdoing, how long before anyone would even find out? What would the smear campaign against my character look like? In the movie Khalil was portrayed by the media as a low life drug dealer who got what he had coming. Would this have been my fate? Would the police pull up my records and find I'd never had any criminal record nor even a parking ticket? Or would they discover I had once been in a mental ward of a hospital after a nervous breakdown or ran an exotic dancer company? Would I be vilified, demonized my character assassinated by the media while the cop is portrayed as a hero who never did wrong? It is fear that held me there wanting to shout but knowing I needed to stay alive.
Because in the end that's the sad reality. We as black people need to stay alive. To find a way to keep from doing or saying anything that could potentially risk our very lives. This is what was left on the screen. No answers, no resolutions just the sad realization that "The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everyone (THUG LIFE)."
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