Vilifying mothers is a national pastime. Absent mothers, celebrity mothers, helicopter mothers, working mothers, stay-at-home mothers, mothers with too many children, mothers with too few children, women who don’t want to be or can’t be mothers–for women, there’s no clear way to do it right.
These same voices weren’t heard or listened to in the various investigations conducted by the LAPD in the 1980s. The film tells the story of Enietra Washington, Franklin’s only known survivor. In 1988, after Franklin picked her up and attempted to kill her, she gave the police a description of Franklin’s car (an orange Pinto) and described his face to a sketch artist.
This moment, of course, is true beauty. They are vulnerable with one another, and that erases the walls that we constantly build up between generations, religions, and genders.
“I’ve been in the passenger seat for decades. It’s time for me to get behind the wheel.”
Claire is a horrible human being for many, many reasons–but her abortions aren’t included in those reasons. The show makes that clear.
These women are complex, if not likable, and that’s a good thing.
I said that I had hoped this year would be different. However, when the Academy announced its nominations, I was not surprised.
For example, in 1840–just one year after photography was invented in France–Jules Lion (an African American man) opened a daguerrotype studio in New Orleans. Ten years later, Louis Agassiz, a scientist from Harvard, worked with a daguerreian in South Carolina to capture images of slaves. The contrast of a free Black photographer and the “specimen”-like treatment of the slaves (and the fact that both were largely forgotten or lost) is, at its core, the contrast–the double consciousness–of the imagery of Black America.
Chinua Achebe said, “There is that great proverb — that until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”
Reading Fanon, listening to Malcolm X, watching ‘Concerning Violence’–these are just a few ways to hear the lions. When the hunter listens, though, he sees a lion roaring, jaws open wide to bite and kill. The fear sets in. Oppressive control digs its heels back in.
At the end of season 6, Gemma violently clashes the spheres of power. She’s in the kitchen. She’s using an iron, and a carving fork. Using tools of the feminine sphere, she brutally murders Tara, because she fears that Tara is about to take control and dismantle the club—the life, the style of mothering and living—that she brought home with her so many years ago.
Rural poverty and urban poverty are not the same. Individual racism and institutional racism are not the same. However, these forces are woven together as they are fiercely kept separate in our common mythologies of what America means. We avoid difficult stories that disrupt the narratives we’ve come to understand.
Horror films hold a mirror up to these ideals, distorting the images and terrifying viewers in the process. The terror that society feels while looking at these little girls echoes the terror it feels when confronted with changing gender norms and female power.