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Consider: Obama hate poems (or any hate poems)

Several months ago, a judge ruled that a Kentucky man who wrote a poem in reference to President Obama, with a line reading “Die negro Die,” can be prosecuted for threatening the President. The poem, unsurprisingly enough, was posted on a white supremacist website. You can read a brief write-up on the case here.

My question is: Should the poem be bothersome? How does the title “Die Nigger Die” by H Rap Brown make readers – make people – feel? I know both phrases don’t inhabit the same intentions, but my issue with having an issue with the poem is the assumption that poetry is indebted to affirming (ostensible) moral conduct and propriety.

I don’t see poetry as didactic, or instructional, or capable of producing a message that can be retained or seen as relevant on a “personal” level. Those are the objectives of Scripture, religion, political groups and other kinds of advisory organizations. I do think poetry is to be taken seriously, but only insofar as it may be the subject of meditation, spiritual expression, interrogation, discovery – any kind of internal action and movement.

Consider: Who is Sophia Stewart?

I’m quite interested in the 1999 case that involved an African-American woman by the name of Sophia Stewart, and the Wachowski Brothers, The Matrix, The Terminator, and Warner Brothers. If you know nothing about this case, you shouldn’t, because it was barely, if at all, reported on by the mainstream media. As a matter of fact, I only came across this case by word of mouth.

Here’s the deal: In 1999, Stewart filed a lawsuit against Warner Brothers (film studio that released The Matrix), the Wachowski Brothers (the directors of The Matrix) and Joel Silver (producer), claiming that The Matrix was plagiarized from her book, The Third Eye. She lost her case after failing to appear in court for preliminary hearings, but her apparent negligence does not dissuade me from buying into her story. I do think there was some shadiness on the part of Warner Brothers, and, I’ll be frank, I do believe both race and gender played a role in the downplay of this case and the unwillingness of many to grant it any credibility. Not to mention, as Stewart says, Warner Brothers is owned by AOL-Time Warner, which owns 95% of all media. There’s no way a case disputing authorship – by a colored woman! – of one of a studio’s most megalicious blockbuster hits would be reported on by that studio’s parent company.

To me, the glaring problem (for many people that counted in this matter) is that Sophia Stewart wrote a manuscript that, not only a black person, but a black woman (double whammy!) had no business writing. Black women simply aren’t supposed to pen work on the cerebral, intellectual, and philosophical level of The Matrix or, for that matter, The Terminator. Consider this quote by Sophia:

“When you read “The Third Eye”, you will see it’s all one story [The Matrix and The Terminator]. You have to understand I am very subtle with the way I write, I work on the subliminal. When I write I don’t want people to be able to tell my race or gender. Look at Octavia Butler the most famous black female science fiction writer they never put her work on the big screen. “

Consider: Scarface’s Interview with All Hip Hop

A couple days ago, I read All Hip Hop’s interview with Scarface. He spoke hard, was heartfelt and genuinely emotional. His disgruntlement with the state and industry of hip-hop was understood and intensely sincere.

This is one of the many moments that stood out to me from the interview:

AllHipHop.com: To me, Hip-Hop is a cultural element of expression. It expresses lyricism, dance, art; it gives insight into our community. Why do you think Hip-Hop is losing that essence?

Here is Scarface’s response:

“Any two ways that you get a White boy singing the Blues; somebody’s lying somewhere. You know, the Blues—have you heard the Blues before? For a White boy to put the Blues out, and says what’s hot in Blues, it’s a lie; because, he doesn’t even have no idea. He doesn’t have no idea why this is done and why we feel how we feel. You cannot expect for a 45 year old 50 year old White boy to dictate what’s hot within the Black community.”

Really, I agree with him. It evokes an image of someone singing the Blues in a tuxedo on a grand stage with a full orchestra.

There’s a cultural relevance to the Blues, to hip-hop music, so when he says for a white person to be singing the Blues – “he doesn’t even have no idea,” there may be some truth to that. I agree that those whose narratives are most deeply embedded in the spirit of the music are those who should have the most influence over its direction.

Face’s quote also taps into why I believe, when people critique hip-hop, they don’t realize they’re critiquing the forces that commercialize and dissolve the music. People who critique hip-hop truly have not heard it, do not have access to it, or are simply critiquing “the man.”

Anyway, not to get off subject, but the interview is a memorable one. I think Face hits every point on the head.

Movie Thoughts: Moon

I went to see this movie a couple weekends ago having never heard of it (which isn’t saying much since I so rarely read media nowadays). I had read the synopsis, to put it roughly, about a man on an “energy” mission to the moon who ends up saving a man in a rover who looks exactly like him. The “saving the man who looks exactly like him” is what pretty much set me off to go see the movie, and I was not disappointed.

By the time I finished watching this movie questions flooded to mind: How do you know you’re real? What does it mean to be real? How do we define real? I’m reminded of the movie Bug in which a character tells another character who’s gone off the deep end that none of what she is experiencing is real, and she responds by asking him how she knows he’s real.

The movie also reminded me of some saying I came across a while ago about there being few originals but many replicas. So one interesting thing about this movie was, as the viewer, not being able to determine originality. This difficulty seemed to speak to the movie’s theme regarding authenticity, and to what extent it even exists.

The movie only has Sam Rockwell, with the exception of a robot assistant voiced by Kevin Spacey. It’s a good movie, one I’d watch again. It’s a film that leaves us with more questions than answers, which is my kind of movie.

Movie Thoughts: Precious Misery Loves Company

So I went to see the film “Precious” Thanksgiving evening with my grandfather and cousin. The movie is based on the novel “Push” by author and poet Sapphire.
Off the bat, I think about the title of the novel versus the title of the movie – “Push” versus “Precious” – and what both imply about the egregiously burdened life of the title characterClareece “Precious” Jones.

I’ll preface by saying I know that the title of the movie was originally “Push: based on the novel by Sapphire,” but was changed to “Precious” due to another movie that came out this year called “Push.” So, in an attempt to keep the Sapphire Push distinct from the Other Push, the title “Push: based on the novel by Sapphire,” was changed to “Precious.” With that said…

The title “Push,” to me, is redeeming because, at the end of the film, “Push” suggests that Precious has decided to use force in her life, meaning, she has determined she will mobilize herself on a journey of her choosing – not her mother’s, or her teacher’s, or her environment’s – that she will “push” herself from her obstacles to a life that responds to her desires and no one else’s. “Push” is a title indicating strength, assertion, possibility, anticipation.

In my estimation, the title “Push” alone would’ve made the movie better.

The title “Precious,” to me, does nothing to get under the movie’s skin. It merely cutely alludes to the motif of lost innocence. If anything, the title “Precious” tries to provide whatever positive characterization can be given for a character the movie itself seems to despise.

By the time the movie finished, aside from hearing sniffles from moved audience members and hearing a man sitting on a bench telling a woman, “That movie was so emotional,” the biggest talking point of this movie for my cousin and grandfather dealt with us having to witness yet another movie that shows black people not being any better than what they are in the eyes of a condescending observer. Well, at least dark-skinned blacks not being anymore than what they are to a condescending observer. If you’re light, there’s more hope. But that’s for later.

I’m becoming less and less moved by black people being in these “rose from concrete” narratives that rarely feel triumphant to me. Precious, to me, feels infused with self-hatred and self-disgust. It’s a story that, to me, is enamored by its own misery. Watching the movie, I couldn’t help but think Precious wasn’t even a character indicative of a person, but rather a character indicative of caricature, some exaggerated portrayal consistent with what “outsiders” are comfortable with thinking.

I agree with the endeavors of realism insofar as it attempts to mirror what seems immediately knowable. But this movie, in my estimation, doesn’t mirror the tragic situation it takes on. It mirrors and mocks it to the extent that, for me, the director becomes sadistic, taking pleasure in portraying the agony of its protagonist. Precious is not given the chance to claim herself. The movie only shows us what she is as the story sees her and tells her to deal with it.

My cousin who accompanied me to the theatre was not a fan of the movie at all. Her main indictment: All the actual uplifting characters in the movie didn’t look black, though they were. They all “looked like white people,” or, in other words, were fair-complected, looked distinctly different than (whiter than) the troubled black people in the movie, who were all dark-skinned. I thought that was a good point. What this this tells me is that even black people – the director of this movie is black (Lee Daniels) – can, whether consciously or not, succumb to racial (or colorist) attitudes that foster self-hating and self-defeating narratives.

As for the performances, I liked Mo’Nique (somewhat) – she did a solid job. To me, she wasn’t great because I think great acting has to involve being inside a character, not just replicating what likely might already be at the forefront of the personality you have. I’m not judging her, I’m just saying thatMo’Nique didn’t totally seem to be acting to me, lol…Her final scene, though, was great.

I do think the movie was too judgmental of her. Her meanness was the stuff of hyperbole. If not that, then I certainly felt like the director was trying to manipulate my stance towards her character. I feel I didn’t have a choice other than to despise her. Villains are usually interesting. Okay wait. Villains that you are actually given an opportunity to become interested in, rather than just be repulsed by, usually prove to be, indeed, interesting characters. Mo’Nique’s character, to me, is not interesting. What you see is what you get. The movie pretty much forces you to be repulsed by her, dare I even say laugh at her craziness. (My cousin told me her friend laughed at Mo’Nique when she saw the movie. That sort of reflects what I’m talking about when I say her character is what it is – nothing more, and her performance isn’t great. It’s just…her? Sorry.)

The explanation at the end of the movie as to why she is so mean to her daughter, Precious, fits in an odd psychoanalytically weird kind of way. I would’ve preferred the movie without her explanation, because explanation, to me, should serve to open the audience to a character’s situation. To me, ‘Nique’s tell-all scene, though well-performed, made the movie more ridiculous because, at that point in the film, I really didn’t care what she had to say. The movie did not warrant her having a monologue, because caricatures don’t have a voice, and her character was complete caricature to me. I’m sure she’ll get some kind of award for this performance. She’s already been nominated for a Golden Globe at the time of this post. I’m less concerned with the accolades she may or may not get, and more concerned with what those accolades always represent for black actresses who take on roles that put themselves in the good graces of their industry: staying put.

Well, what is good about the movie? I guess it wants to teach self-acceptance, if I can even call it that. In my estimation, the movie actually doesn’t teach that at all since it has this recurring theme of Precious wanting to be white or light-skinned (all the people “better” than her are fair-skinned). At the end of the day, I do feel this movie is about Precious accepting who she is, but not necessarily wanting to be who she is and “pushing” to become something she feels is superior to what she is now.

Issues of racial identity and colorism can certainly be evaluated in this film. One of the very first things Precious says in the film is that she wants to have a light-skinned boyfriend. She also says she desires to be light-skinned. At one point in the movie, she looks in the mirror and her reflection is of a white woman. The movie, I don’t feel, quite makes a statement on those desires. They are just left as they are. She does not want to be what she is, and, for all that she is, she certainly doesn’t want to be dark while being those things.

One thing I will say about Precious, and what interests me more than anything else in the movie, is the importance of language. Precious reminds me so much of Celie from The Color Purple. Both sort of write themselves into existence, find rites of passage in writing, create themselves in words, and at some point, insist on their own narratives. So I find it particularly interesting, then, that the teacher in the movie frequently tells Precious to “keep writing, write, write, just write…” to keep yielding herself to language. Precious never really situates herself until she begins to write, and as she does, her story begins to unfold.

Anyway, I know many people adore the book and the movie. I haven’t read the book, and, thanks to the movie, have very little to no interest in doing so. I will be frank: I can’t see how anyone would enjoy this film, or find much of anything admirable in it. If you’ve seen it, what are your thoughts?