Monday, August 31, 2020

It's Time U Start


The Hate U Give
is devastatingly relevant. Angie Thomas has written a story set in present day, but one that, sadly, could have been plucked from almost any century in United States history. Thank goodness for writers like Thomas, who can provide some of the education that is so desperately needed in this country.  I'll admit I am a little late to The Hate U Give, it was published in 2017, but I am hoping that this moment in American history will drive more people to read the book and compel more people to band together to end the injustice in this country.

The Hate U Give introduces us to Starr Carter, a 16-year old Black girl living in the predominantly poor, Black neighborhood of Garden Heights. Starr’s parents, recognizing the limitations of the local school district, send Starr and her brothers to the white, affluent Williamson Prep School. Starr keeps her worlds separate, assuming, perhaps correctly, that her white friends will not understand her Black heritage and her Black friends will not understand the prep school environment. When Starr is the only witness to the killing of her childhood friend Khalil by a white police officer, and in the ensuing media frenzy and the introspection that follows, Starr begins to question why she must keep her worlds separate.


To those around her, Starr is a typical teenager. Little do they know, particularly her white friends, the effort she puts forth to maintain the 'typical teen' vibe. Because it has been ingrained in Starr that she should act a certain way around whites (never let them think you are from the ghetto) while maintaining a sort of street cred in her neighborhood, there are actually two Starrs. One, born and raised in the projects, is decidedly not a "cool" kid. The other Starr, as one of only two Black kids at Williamson Prep, is cool simply because of the color of her skin. Starr code switches effortlessly between her two worlds and the inherent unfairness in not being able to simply be herself is essentially accepted without question. And, to me, that is the heart of the matter in The Hate U Give. It's the crux of what many may not understand about the Black experience. Black people do not have the privilege to simply exist and live as themselves. In order to be accepted by the dominant culture, certain expectations must be met and that almost always requires Black people to withhold part of their authentic self. And it simply is not fair, it is not right. 

 

Thomas has created a neighborhood and characters that, while fictional, are entirely realistic and their experiences are no doubt familiar for thousands of young Black kids. Writing in Starr’s voice and personifying the doubts, the fears and the triumphs, Thomas brilliantly builds tension right up to the end of the book – a sure sign of a well-written piece of fiction.  The Hate U Give gets its name from a Tupac Shakur lyric. The conversation between Starr and her dad about how Tupac’s lyrics describe systemic racism is crucial, not just for young readers to whom the book is targeted, but anyone looking to start or bolster their education in regards to the Black Lives Matter movement.  


Though the book opens with the tragedy of Khalil's death, I spent the rest of the book waiting for the other shoe to drop. When will the next Black man die or be killed and who will it be? The constant tension and the cloud of fear that darkens every sky seem illustrative of the Black experience, particularly the Black, male experience in the United States. I use the word “seem” because I can never claim to have anywhere near the same experiences as my Black counterparts, but I can try to understand and work to stop it. And you can, too. Start small. Start by learning about the Black experience. Start by reading The Hate U Give.


Wednesday, August 19, 2020

The Soundtrack of Childhood

I had a light bulb moment watching the documentary Howard, streaming on Disney+. The realization was this: Howard Ashman and Alan Menken wrote the music of my childhood, in the form of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. 

I possessed not one, but two, sets of The Little Mermaid sheets. Presumably so there was never a moment Ariel was not flipping her fins as I drifted off to sleep. I spent early elementary school on the swim team, so you can imagine the “Part of Your World” reenactments getting out of the pool at the end of practice. And Beauty and the Beast? Could not get enough. My Barbie collection was pretty small compared to my peers, but did I have to have Belle and Beast? You bet I did. Belle came with both her blue town dress and her gold gown and Beast had a sort of mask type thing to be removed after he learns to love and earns Belle’s love in return.


But back to Ashman and Menken, both musical geniuses to be sure. Each experienced individual successes but, in writing together, their strengths were magnified. Ashman’s experience with failure seemed to drive him even harder, giving him something to prove. Smile’s short run on Broadway (only 48 performances) would have rocked some to their core, but Ashman forged ahead. There is no doubt much more to Ashman than is revealed in this documentary, but what does shine through is Ashman’s passion. A man devoid of passion does not continue to create while staring death in the face. Ashman loved the arts and believed in their power to heal and uplift. The world was robbed of the chance to experience everything else Ashman would have produced throughout what would have no doubt been a long and productive career. But his legacy lives on. 30 years later, when Belle yearns for more than her provincial life and the melody feels instantly familiar and relatable and when “Be Our Guest” elicits a tongue twisting joy just as it did the first time we heard it, that’s Howard Ashman. 


One can hope that a future documentary, Alan, will be greenlit soon.