A young woman’s double life comes crashing down.
Feel free to donate :) Anything helps!
This is the trailer to my movie. We are doing an indiegogo to raise funds. Wouldn’t it be real cute, and make you feel good on the inside to donate?
*side note. I was at the corner store looking for cheese yesterday (because that’s what people do at the corner store) and this guy was…actually, I’m not going to get into that.
Look at my video, and contribute to my film, thanks love.
La la la.
And it don’t take no x-ray to see right through my soul.
I think that transparency could be healthy at times so here goes (but this is uncomfortable to type because my nails are hella long)
During the 1940’s Claudia Jones, a Trinidadian born woman introduced ideas that promulgated the visibility of the black woman, and threatened white male patriarchy in America. She was a strong supporter of communism and an ally to Karl Marx. As a result, in 1955 she was deported from the United States to Britain.
She coined the term “superexploitation of the black woman” as it related to the black woman’s oppression in the work force due to capitalism. See, I have no qualms with capitalism, being that it has worked in my favor. So my interpretation of super exploitation is different from hers, but still inspired by her discoveries.
As a black woman, I face super exploitation because I stand behind (or next to, if we’re being progressive) a black man. In addition to the black woman facing disparity in the labor force she faced emotional disparity. See in the 1940’s white patriarchy emasculated the black man, called him “boy”, denied his innate rights, lynched him etc. It’s interesting…one could shake their head at the ideas of racism in the 1940’s and scoff at how absurd, preposterous and anachronistic…
I said anachronistic (my bad) something can’t be anachronistic when it’s still present. See in 2014, black men are still emasculated, denied rights, and instead of lynching we now have gun shots, police officers and Zimmerman’s who never face punishment.
But back to the super exploitation.
In 2014, I feel super exploited, solely because I am a black woman, and I know the implications of being with a black man. If we go to a nice restaurant in the city, I see the glances as we walk to the table. I understand that in order to catch a cab I, (the unsuspecting woman) will have to do it because no one will stop for him. I have seen women shift closer together and tighten the grip on their Michael Kors bags when said man and I walk near them. I have to wonder if my brother or father is going to be killed whilst walking down the street, or reaching into their pockets for their wallets.
Is it hard to believe that there are young black men, that are educated? Black men who have obtained multiple tertiary degrees? Black men who are doing well enough to frequent restaurants that caters to a crowd that is not used to his unkempt dreadlocks?
One may think that this shouldn’t bother me, because we enjoy the same privileges regardless, and they don’t look at me with a slightly squinted eye. In actuality, it does affect me… see him and I are reflections of each other. So in these situations, where do I stand? Do I pretend not to see the looks? Do I acknowledge his discomfort? Do I feign composure in the midst of silent rage at other people’s judgements of him? I must reckon with his feelings, whilst trying to process my own.
So when MIke Brown happens, I too am shot, because as a black woman, I am there-I am his backbone, so I feel his pain and I feel mine too. I am super exploited. Granted, this is not to detract from the senseless and egregious murders of black men. Rather, this is for me to deal with my emotions and better understand why I become so extremely affected whenever a black man without reason or cause for suspicion is extinguished. I think it’s because of super exploitation and double oppression.
In biblical times, the Egyptians feared the growing population and ordered all the newborn sons of Israelite women to be killed,( this is the story of how Moses floated to the queen in a wicker basket) Anyway, I feel as though black mothers may have to do the same, they may have to kill their sons, to spare them from living only to be killed by the police, or Zimmerman or whomever ( hyperbolic, but you get the point).
Post racial society?
This weekend, me and about 18 people shot a film. Everyone keeps asking me how I feel, and honestly I’m scared a little bit. I guess the hard part is over? I feel like it’s only begun.
But it was awesome though. We had an entire brownstone in Clinton HIll, and so much positive energy. The food on set was good too, I’m talking jerk chicken, stew chicken, mac and cheese, rice and peas, scrambled eggs, salad, kale, coleslaw errythang…and I got it all for free. Like I literally asked restaurants to donate, and didn’t stop until every meal for 18 people was covered.
But it isn’t all sunshine and free food, I’ve never faced as much rejection as I did whilst trying to make this movie…but I did it anyway. Because I’m ambitious, naive, unrealistic and sometimes people like my imagination.
Now I just have to get people to fund it. So if you’re reading this, and you have money…hey zaaadyyyy.
I’m shooting my film next weekend. I can not believe this. How did this happen? Like I’ve never written a film before.
Sometimes I feel dumb and vulnerable during this process. Then other times I’m confused, like “why are these people working on this with me? At the end of the day, I just want to make art, with people I like..but like how did I get Panavision and Kodak behind this? You gotta understand, nobody showed me how to do this. I literally read books and taught myself how to write for screen..I went to school to learn how to act, I do yoga, I lay on the floor and pretend to be a banana…not this. But it’s happening.
Tonight the stylist and I went to my friend’s store in Brooklyn to get clothes for the actors (shout out to Kid Super) and we were just sitting in his studio talking about this journey.
A journey of a year and a half. Of emails at 1:21am, of excel spreadsheets, of spending 80% of my time alone
l o n e l e y.
Not to stunt or nothing, but like yooooooo I’m a week away from filming a short that I wrote.
Also, I don’t have enough money in our budget for our shoot next weekend…but like it’ll come from somewhere, it has to.
In other news I promised my baby sister I’d take her to get her nails done…so I’m leaving NY for the weekend.
One last thing: shout out to you if you uplift those pursuing their dreams…and if you don’t then you go’n be mad forever.