Mourning and Celebrating "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson"

Hey everyone,

At the literal 11th hour as Pride month comes to a close, I want to talk about "The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson" (2017).

The documentary introduces us to Marsha P. Johnson, a major player in the movement for LGBT rights including in the Stonewall uprising, by way of the ongoing investigation into her death.  Officially ruled a suicide, the highly suspicious circumstances of Marsha's death appropriately lead LGBT activist Victoria Cruz to tirelessly investigate her likely murder even on the precipice of her retirement.

At its heart, this film uplifts the anguish and struggle of trans activists for equal respect, rights, and voice within the movement for LGBT rights.  Even as they played a major--at times central--role in securing rights for other sexual minorities, trans people often found themselves overlooked or spurned by the movement whose success they were instrumental in.  The movie also highlights the loving and strong community trans activists like Marsha provided for each other during an extraordinarily treacherous period in LGBT history.  Despite being driven to the margins of society, trans activists like Marsha built celebratory and unapologetic lives for themselves and their compatriots, all in the hopes the future could be better.

The lingering emotional impact of the film are the simultaneous notes of Marsha's huge, bright, gregarious personality and the heartache of her tragic and senseless death.  Through the tragedy and sadness, her broad smile, her bold style, her courageous and ferocious agitation for a better world are nevertheless what shine brightest.

I gave this movie a 4.

{Heart}

Black Films Matter

Hi team,

At this moment, white people have a valuable opportunity to think about the stand they want to take in the urgent need to advocate for Black lives.  A lot of people are wondering how to turn their good-intentioned urge to support the Black Lives Matter movement into action.

There are, of course, ongoing demonstrations, where showing up as a white ally is deeply needed (and needs to be done right).

For those who are not able to attend demonstrations, there are many other ways to support the push for justice, equity, safety, and dignity for Black people in America, like donating to relevant Black-led organizations, contacting elected officials to advocate for anti-racist policies, supporting Black-owned businesses, finding and sharing anti-racist resources online for would-be allies to use, and having anti-racist conversations with other white people (so Black people don't have to do so much of the massive and depleting emotional labor to educate white people on subjects much more painful and high-stakes to Black people than they are to white people).  We can also express our love and support for our Black family, friends, coworkers, and neighbors, knowing that this is yet another ugly, terrifying, and exhausting era for them.

While this public and interpersonal work is a major part of showing up as an ally, ongoing self-education and self-examination are necessary and often overlooked aspects of the anti-racist allyship process.  We must constantly be working on ourselves so we can be better instruments of justice and support.

So often, the self-study required of white allies is described as a difficult, painful, and anxiety-inducing process.  Too little is said about what a joyful and purpose-driven process it actually is.  If our hearts are set firmly in the knowledge that Black lives are precious and that this work is urgently needed of us, that by working on ourselves we are working to build a more just and equitable world for our Black neighbors and for us, then why wouldn't this process bring us joy?  With each incremental discovery and dismantling of our internalized racism, we are working to destroy the structures of oppression in greater society.  With each new thing we learn about lived experiences we have not had, we draw ourselves closer to all humanity.  This is beautiful, exhilarating work!

One of the many manifestations of that joy is in watching films made by and about Black people.

Aspiring white allies, can you name five films you've watched whose casts are majority Black people?  Five movies you've seen created by Black directors?  Perhaps most importantly, what proportion of the films you watch are Black-created and -influenced movies: featuring Black characters and narratives, not centering primarily or only white people?

This is just one tiny way we can invite Black people into our lives and not ask anything of them in return.  We must find ways to do this--and certainly not only request their presence when we're having a Big Serious Conversation about racism.  By actively cultivating loving and respectful curiosity about the lived experience of Black people, we are ever more empowered to fight to engage in anti-racism.  We are more informed, more empathic, and more connected to the lives that we know matter.

With that in mind, I'd love to offer some of my favorite Black-created and -influenced films that I've written about in the last few years:

Fiction/Non-Documentary:
Black Panther (2018)
Sorry to Bother You (2018)
Get Out (2017)
Moonlight (2016)
Selma (2014)
For Colored Girls (2010)
Do the Right Thing (1989)

Documentary:
Decade of Fire (2019)
Step (2017)
I Am Not Your Negro (2016)
12 O'Clock Boys (2013)

I'm also excited to share some excellent compilations of movies created by Black people, as I'm looking forward to watching a lot of these suggestions:

THE 100 BEST BLACK MOVIES OF THE 21ST CENTURY (Rotten Tomatoes)
The Best Black Movies of the Last 30 Years (Complex)
Great Movies by Black American Directors (New York Times)
48 Black Movies on Netflix That You'll Want to Watch on Repeat (O Magazine)

Solidarity in this joyful, urgent, beautiful struggle!

{Heart}