I assure you there is nothing funny about the subject matter of this post. However, in completing it, all I can do is laugh and shake my head because of the funny circumstances surrounding it. First of all, there is coincidence of the title. I actually started this post about eight hours ago. Its intent was to describe the well of emotions I have fallen into this weekend. These past two days have been all about reflection and thoughts of the past. For weeks, I have had the March issue of Essence sitting on my table and have been making plans to read it. I finally sat down with it tonight and when I go to the cover story, wouldn't you know that Chiwetel Ejiofor, one of Black Hollywood's best kept secrets for years, described his experience with making 12 Years A Slave as "dancing with ghosts". The fact that that was already the title of this post and the fact that I watched 12 Years A Slave for the third time this weekend, gave me an immediate shudder.
My first moment came in a conversation with my mother. She and I were talking about the bad luck I have been having lately. When I got to a point where I had run out of words for the things I've dealt with and all I could say was "Mommy, I just don't know what to do", she said "Well, sometimes you just have to know that sometimes your bad luck comes from being good to people. But you have to know that better luck will come when you start being better to yourself." When she said that, it was like something thumped me on the forehead. It wasn't so much the first part because I know that, despite the fact that some people may believe me to be a bitch, the fact that I am too good to people and give far too many chances at times cause my downfall at times. But when she told me better luck comes when I start being better to myself, I realized more errors of my ways. I do believe it to be an asset to me that I am extremely hard on myself. However, I have beat myself up so much for the way things have been going that I just may have missed out on lots of opportunities to improve them. I have told myself so often that there must be something I have done to cause everything and that there is no way that any of it is by no fault of my own. What I should have been doing instead is asking myself just what I am going to do about it.
When I wasn't with my mother, I was alone watching movies. Chiwetel Ejiofor and the beautiful Lupita Nyong'o's performances in 12 Years A Slave are no less awe-inspiring, no matter how many times I see them. Even though it is not a past that I am old enough to remember, I can't help letting pride be one of the million feelings I have when I watch this film. I read the book years ago and found the story moving. But there is something about seeing it played out on screen that takes my breath away. Here you have a man who lived free, educated and talented but was tricked and kidnapped to endure twelve grueling years as a slave and being treated as less than a man. But he still somehow maintains enough hope and sensibility to be returned to his family and his freedom. For me, there is one scene in the film that pulled everything together and allowed all of the experiences to set in. There is a scene right after Bass (played by executive producer Brad Pitt) has agreed to write Solomon's letters. No words are spoken in the scene. It is just Solomon sitting in a field by himself looking off into the distance. The look on his face is one of fatigue, anguish, confusion, hopelessness, reflection, fear, relief and at least 150 emotions. In that very moment, he has to think of his past and his desire to go back there. He fears what may happen if he should be betrayed again. He is tired. He is a ball of nerves given the fact that he is unsure whether or not he has made a mistake that will end his life or made a old move that will get him his life back. Solomon finally gets the chance to be alone with himself and assess his entire life. He takes stock of so much in those few minutes. There were other moments in the film where Solomon was alone, but not for as long and not nearly as much had happened to him. Steve McQueen was brilliant to give us this scene in this manner and at the point in the film that he did. Even without dialog, it is the heaviest and to me, the fullest scene in the film. Personally, at that moment, I gave some thought to my own strength. I am not certain that I could have lived through what Solomon and Patsey did. The fact that I complain about trivial things shows me what a watered down version I am of the stock I come from. Though I cannot be sure whether any of Solomon's blood runs through my veins, I know that I share the blood of those just as strong. And the fact that I grow weak at things that would have been considered fortune to them, lets me know that I need to stick out my chest and be strong.
Another AWESOME film I watched, also for the third time was Fruitvale Station. Coincidentally, the dapper and handsome Michael B. Jordan is featured in the same article I read Chiwetel's quote in. His portrayal of Oscar Grant was spell-binding. In addition to the renewed feeling of anger I felt when the story broke in 2009, I felt a sense of deep reflection when watching this weekend. Oscar was a man who was vilified for the mistakes of his past. Those who wanted to assassinate his character paid no mind to the good deeds he did from day to day and the fact that he sincerely wanted to change his life for the better. This film is a jewel because writer and director Ryan Coogler is from the same area and had connections to Oscar's life that made it all so real. I love the fact that he showed Oscar's kindness to strangers and even his love for animals and took off the mask of the monster that the media had created. In reality, Oscar Julius Grant III never should have been made to wear that mask in the first place. The irony of his life was that it ended after he was innocently recognized by a stranger he had paid a kindness to who only wanted to wish him a happy new year, but unknowingly exposed him to one of the demons of his past. The fact that as he lay dying, he repeated to his shooter, "I got a daughter", proves that he was not the stereotypical young, Black deadbeat father. He was a 22-year-old man who wanted a bright future, loved his mother, loved his daughter, loved the mother of his child and had a big heart that was open to all that he met. Oscar's openness made me question my own. I know that I try and do a kind deed when I see the need. But are my eyes open enough? Am I as aware as I should be when others are in need? And just how far would I go to help? Maybe the reason I have not gotten the things I want from my life is that there is more that I should be putting in. Maybe I need to tap into the Oscar Grant inside of me a little more often.
The happenings in both these films, Solomon's love for his wife (though only shown briefly) and Oscar's love for Sophina brought to mind my own relationships. I know for a fact that I do dance with the ghosts of past loves quite often and perhaps that scares me away from loving again. Sure, everyone close to me knows that for years I have been in love with Larry Fitzgerald (wide receiver for the Arizona Cardinals for those who don't know). But that is a different kind of love from another in the respect that I can express it with no fear because in my heart I am sure that it is one that will never be real to me. But the grand mistake of loving another comes to mind when I think of relationships. Years ago, I wrote a song called "Ghost of Me" in which I mockingly tell my ex-lover to "have a tango around the floor with the ghost of me". But in reality, I have probably been the only one dancing. In order for me to have peace in that or any other area of my life, I have to decide whether I will allow all of my ghosts to lead the dance or leave them standing along the walls just praying I will ask for their hands.
TK
