Shame and Humiliation - The story of my past and present

In a movie about slavery you expect scenes that will be difficult. In fact you especially expect a vicious rape scene. Yet with that knowledge in hand I wasn't prepared for the rage that came over me while watching “12 Years a Slave” as the slave master raped his "favorite, hardest working" slave in one scene, defended her to his wife in another scene then whipped her until her back was covered with open wounds in the next scene.  That visual has always been in my mind constructed from all the historical facts I have learned over the years. To see it played out on screen was like watching a nightmare come to life. Entertainment this was not. I asked myself over and over again, why am I watching this?

History is spoken in the present based on each individual's interpretation of the facts. How each person feels about history and the facts of what occurred in the past is based on two key factors, their emotional connection to the past and their understanding of how the past impacts the present. America has a disgusting shameful history. If you disagree with that last line, you should not continue to read this. For everything after will be based on my interpretation of the facts of the past (leading aforementioned conclusion).

I have read and watched a lot that is out there about the history of slavery in this country. I am the descendant of slaves.  I have no connection to any island or other country. I am an American, though not always proud of such a distinction given how that fact came to be. I was taught as a young child all the horrors of our history in a way that wasn't filtered for my young ears or eyes. To put this in prospective for you, my father took me to see the Disney movie “Pocahontas”.  When it was over, he proceeded to tell me the true details of the story of Pocahontas and John.  We went from Disney movie to rape, pillage and pedophilia.  So there is no surprise, when I read about slavery and the 400 years of institutional and government sanctioned enslavement and brutality of my ancestors, I am angered. When I have a visual in front of me, like in the movie "12 Years a Slave," I am utterly disgusted, livid, sad, embarrassed and bitter.  

My embarrassment and shame is tied to today. I am riddled with shame for I don't think enough of what I do now honors the dreadfulness they went through. I look around at the country I live in today and the state of black people in this country and I am embarrassed. Look at what we survived, look at what we endured. How do we not feel we possess the power to do 1000 times better than we are doing now? Even as a person who has achieved many things my ancestors could not have even conceptualize, I don't feel I've done nearly enough to honor the grave sacrifices they made on my behalf. Watching what they endured, I feel like we are failing them. More shame creeps in. Then there is the conversation.  I am a very verbal person, fully capable of having conversations about controversial things. Yet when it comes to finding out from white people how they feel about this, I am overwhelmed with emotion tied directly to both how I expect/want them to feel and how sure I am that most don't feel that way. More shame creeps in at the thought that I am afraid to have that conversation.  I don't seek to demonize them in anyway. I say that to acknowledge that this haunts me every day because it is not just my history but the story of my present. For many white Americans this is simply history, something that happened and is now over. For me it's happening every day. That very disconnect is why that conversation can't happen. That disconnect is why in the theater after watching this film of repulsion the white people in the theater around me could comment on the cinematography and acting. For them it was entertainment. When the credits rolled, I couldn't tell you a damn thing about the movie. I was stuck on the degradation, the vicious rapes, and the humiliation. I was living the humiliation in that moment over and over for 2 hours.

I am sure the filmmakers’ intention was not to make me, an African American woman, feel shame and disgust.  But that is what I felt.  Though there were many moments where tears would have been appropriate, I could not find them.  I was overcome by anger and rage.  For this wasn't just a story, it was a true story.  This wasn't the figment of someone’s imagination, this was real.  Not only was the story of the history real and the emotions I felt real, but the way in which what happened over 100 years ago has very real impacts on the world we live in now – that was super real.  To me that is evident, obvious and a matter of fact.  To others not so much.  It was that fact that sent me into a flying rage at the conclusion of this film.  I didn't sleep well that night and I am still disturbed 3 days later because for me it was real.  Yet for others watching it, they too having ancestors in that same story, may not have walked out equally disturbed.  More shame creeps in as a small part of me is envious of their ability to be disconnected from their history. 

I went to the movies to be entertained.  I walked out of the movie feeling humiliated and drenched in shame. Neither of which I was prepared for.  Neither of which I quite understand.  Both of which are part of my history and my present.