Oakland, Calif.
JUDGING
from the mail I’ve received, the conversations I’ve had and all that
I’ve read, the responses to “Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by
Sapphire” fall largely along racial lines.
Among
black men and women, there is widespread revulsion and anger over the
Oscar-nominated film about an illiterate, obese black teenager who has
two children by her father. The author Jill Nelson wrote:
“I don’t eat at the table of self-hatred, inferiority or victimization.
I haven’t bought into notions of rampant black pathology or embraced
the overwrought, dishonest and black-people-hating pseudo-analysis too
often passing as post-racial cold hard truths.” One black radio
broadcaster said that he felt under psychological assault for two hours.
So did I.
The
blacks who are enraged by “Precious” have probably figured out that
this film wasn’t meant for them. It was the enthusiastic response from
white audiences and critics that culminated in the film being nominated
for six Oscars by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, an
outfit whose 43 governors are all white and whose membership in terms of
diversity is about 40 years behind Mississippi. In fact, the director,
Lee Daniels, said that the honor would bring even more “middle-class white Americans” to his film.
Is
the enthusiasm of such white audiences and awards committees based on
their being comfortable with the stereotypes shown? Barbara Bush, the
former first lady, not only hosted a screening of “Precious” but also wrote
about it in Newsweek, saying: “There are kids like Precious everywhere.
Each day we walk by them: young boys and girls whose home lives are
dark secrets.” Oprah Winfrey, whose endorsement assisted the movie’s
distribution and its acceptance among her white fanbase, said, “None of us who sees the movie can now walk through the world and allow the Preciouses of the world to be invisible.”
Are
Mrs. Bush and Ms. Winfrey suggesting, on the basis of a fictional film,
that incest is widespread among black families? Statistics tell us that
it’s certainly no more prevalent among blacks than whites. The National
Center for Victims of Crime notes: “Incest does not discriminate. It
happens in families that are financially privileged, as well as those of
low socio-economic status. It happens to those of all racial and ethnic
descent, and to those of all religious traditions.”
Given
the news media’s tendency to use scandals involving black men, both
fictional and real, to create “teaching tools” about the treatment of
women, it was inevitable that a black male character associated with
incest would be used to begin some national discussion about the state
of black families.
This
use of movies and books to cast collective shame upon an entire
community doesn’t happen with works about white dysfunctional families.
It wasn’t done, for instance, with “Requiem for a Dream,” starring the
great Ellen Burstyn, about a white family dealing with drug addiction,
or with “The Kiss,” a memoir about incest — in that case, a relationship
between a white father and his adult daughter.
Such
stereotyping has led to calamities being visited on minority
communities. I’ve suggested that the Newseum in Washington create a Hall
of Shame, which would include the front pages of newspapers whose
inflammatory coverage led to explosions of racial hatred. I’m thinking,
among many others, of 1921’s Tulsa riot, which started with a rumor that
a black man had assaulted a white woman, and resulted in the murder of
300 blacks.
Black
films looking to attract white audiences flatter them with another kind
of stereotype: the merciful slave master. In guilt-free bits of
merchandise like “Precious,” white characters are always portrayed as
caring. There to help. Never shown as contributing to the oppression of
African-Americans. Problems that members of the black underclass
encounter are a result of their culture, their lack of personal
responsibility.
It’s
no surprise either that white critics — eight out of the nine comments
used on the publicity Web site for “Precious” were from white men and
women — maintain that the movie is worthwhile because, through the
efforts of a teacher, this girl begins her first awkward efforts at
writing.
Redemption
through learning the ways of white culture is an old Hollywood theme.
D. W. Griffith produced a series of movies in which Chinese, Indians and
blacks were lifted from savagery through assimilation. A more recent
example of climbing out of the ghetto through assimilation is “Dangerous
Minds,” where black and Latino students are rescued by a curriculum
that doesn’t include a single black or Latino writer.
By
the movie’s end, Precious may be pushing toward literacy. But she is
jobless, saddled with two children, one of whom has Down syndrome, and
she’s learned that she has AIDS.
Some redemption.
On Friday, NPR senior news analyst and journalistic legend Daniel Schorr passed away. He was 93. In remembrance of Schorr, we’re re-airing comments excerpted from a speech he gave on the present state of journalism when he was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 2002. You can read 
