{"id":4055,"date":"2012-04-01T15:50:17","date_gmt":"2012-04-01T15:50:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.qwoc.org\/?p=4055"},"modified":"2012-04-01T15:50:17","modified_gmt":"2012-04-01T15:50:17","slug":"not-just-another-queer-movie-my-afrofeminist-review-of-pariah","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/?p=4055","title":{"rendered":"Not (Just) Another Queer Movie: My Afrofeminist Review of Pariah"},"content":{"rendered":"

Originally published at spectraspeaks.com<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n

Wait a minute, not all lesbians in movies are white, rich or middle-class with no bills to pay?<\/strong> You mean \u201clife\u201d doesn\u2019t get put on pause so that all gay people can experience the thrill of coming out at summer camp? And, there are other LGBT issues worth talking about besides marriage? Gasp! And Hallelujah for Spike Lee prot\u00e9g\u00e9 Dee Rees\u2019\u00a0Pariah<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>a film women of color (and other marginalized groups) can truly relate to.<\/p>\n

On the surface,\u00a0Pariah<\/em>\u00a0is a coming of age story about an African-American lesbian, Alike (pronounced \u201cAh-LEE-kay\u201d) in Brooklyn. But dig deeper, and you\u2019ll see a smart and layered tackling of gender, sexuality, religion, and even class \u2014 an essential layer of complexity needed to accurately portray the diverse experiences of queer people of color, long been absent from mainstream LGBT films. Rather than depicting homophobia as the only kind of oppression experienced by the LGBT community,\u00a0Pariah<\/em>\u2019s world is a varied socio-cultural landscape in motion featuring an all-POC cast, led by Nigerian actress Adepero Oduye\u2019s performance as 17-year old Alike.<\/p>\n

Pariah<\/em>\u2019s urban setting almost eliminates the need to discuss race at all (or, as in popular case of\u00a0experiencing race through white characters<\/a>, explain it). The audience is plopped, un-apologetically, right in the middle of a story filled with black characters, making way for intersectional observations about class and gender roles within the story\u2019s cultural context.<\/p>\n

SPOILERS AHEAD<\/strong><\/p>\n

The film opens with an unfocused, low-level street shot of baggy jeans, dangling belt chains, hard-soled shoes, and the dirty\u00a0pavements of Brooklyn. We hear the sound of women socializing, and then some unexpected song lyrics:All you ladies pop your p-ssy like this.<\/em>\u00a0We\u2019re immediately placed in the scene of a nightclub, in front of a stripper who is somehow managing to slide\u00a0up<\/em>\u00a0the pole, and slapped in the face by Rees\u2019 over-the-top interpretation of coming of age as a young lesbian of color: loud club music, a hyper-sexualized social environment, a group of tomboys (\u201cstuds\u201d, \u201cbutches\u201d, \u201caggressives\u201d) throwing money at a stripper in a bothersome (yet, admittedly, amusing) re-enactment of heterosexual masculinity, while a small voice in our heads may be wondering if we\u2019re supposed to be down with all of this.<\/p>\n

\"\"But just as we are beginning to question what we\u2019re doing in the theater, we meet Alike and see that her world is upside down, too, literally. The frame is rotated upright to reveal a slender Alike, dressed awkwardly in a wide-striped, oversized polo, black do-rag, and fitted lid, staring at the pulsating pelvis of the stripper, and doing so with a confused, yet curious expression on her face.<\/p>\n

Her discomfort is made even more apparent when we meet her best friend, Laura (Pernell Walker), a huskier and much more aggressive tomboy (who claims to \u201cget more p-ssy than yo\u2019 daddy\u201d), acting as Alike\u2019s enthusiastic chaperone in this bizarre rite of passage. Dressed in a red lid and popped-collar track jacket, Laura embodies masculinity more confidently; after she finally gives up trying to get Alike to\u00a0\u201cget that\u00a0punani<\/em>\u201c, she proceeds to grind with a\u00a0heteronormatively feminine<\/a>\u00a0(\u201chigh femme\u201d) black lesbian in a gender-polarized mating dance.<\/p>\n

Conversely,\u00a0as Alike heads home on the bus alone, we see her vulnerability exposed under fluorescent lights: she begins to slowly strip herself of the masculine lesbian identity she\u2019s hiding from her family. She reluctantly slides the lid and do-rag off her head to put her natural hair (twisties) in a ponytail,\u00a0pulls off the over-sized polo to reveal a fitted tank top hidden underneath, and finally, puts a pair of earrings back on her ears in a heart-breaking act of gender conformity.<\/p>\n

Despite the nuanced depiction of gender and class,\u00a0Pariah<\/em>\u00a0doesn\u2019t hit us over the head with analysis: the characters don\u2019t explain why they each dress differently (urban streetwear to preppy to chic, and more), why they are of different financial circumstances, or why their accents are different; they just are<\/em>. Alike, for instance, is evidently a \u201csofter\u201d tomboy as described by some girls at her high school. She\u2019s also an aspiring writer, and (most likely due to the part of the city in which she was raised) has very different diction from Laura, whose vernacular is filled with slang, curse words, and the N-word as a term of endearment. In turn, Laura\u2019s friends behave in a manner that\u2019s very similar to cisgendered masculinity: they wear all men\u2019s clothing, drink beer, play poker, and (of course<\/em>) have beautiful girls sit on their laps as trophies. Yes, lesbians can be sexist too, but Dee Rees\u2019 thoughtful character development steers the screenplay away from\u00a0the danger of telling a single story<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"\"In the past, the dominant movie narrative that existed for lesbians on screen, for many, depicted an unrealistic social context: all lesbians are white and heteronormatively feminine (AKA \u201clipstick lesbians\u201d like Gina Gershon and Jennifer Tilly in\u00a0Bound<\/em>), they have sex by making a performance of moaning the same way the women in straight porno films do (too many to name, but the\u00a0most annoying sex scene for me comes from indie flick\u00a0Chloe<\/em><\/a>\u00a0\u2014 an extended makeout session, really?). Meanwhile, no one seems to have any money problems as they can throw huge weddings they don\u2019t even show up to (Imagine Me and You<\/a><\/em>,\u00a0the infamous\u00a0L Word<\/em>\u00a0non-wedding<\/a>) and 2-dimensional side characters with no real lives of their own, exist simply to react (whether negatively or positively) to the \u201clesbian\u201d issue (a la the saintly and unfortunate husband archetype in\u00a0The Hours<\/a><\/em>).<\/p>\n

In many of these films, homophobia (besides the expected relationship drama) was often presented as the singular obstacle to the main characters\u2019 happiness. Thus, the combination of the afore-mentioned archetypal elements and the perpetuation of single-issue hurdles for LGBT characters, for me, wove together a series of feel-good lezzie flicks that all said the same thing: \u201cPlease leave these two pretty and privileged white girls who just want to fall in love and live happily ever after in their color-blind world (which, by the way, contains no people of color) alone, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

Considering what the film industry was like even just a decade ago, most people would concede that in the face of Hollywood\u2019s focus on hegemonic straight relationships, movies that featured gay or lesbian characters\u00a0at all<\/em>\u00a0were pushing the envelope.<\/a>\u00a0Indeed, many of us queer women were thrilled when\u00a0The L Word<\/em>\u00a0came out. After all, it was on Showtime \u2014 widely accessible to our straight friends, who we eagerly organized viewing parties with so we could watch them experience what our lives as lesbians were like, sort of.<\/p>\n

\"\"We didn\u2019t all wear high heels and runway dresses; the lesbians at the clubs I went to certainly didn\u2019t sport that level of\u00a0Hollywood glam.<\/a>\u00a0Many of us were puzzled by the main characters\u2019 financial means to spend lavish amounts of money eating out at fancy restaurants, throwing parties in LA mansions, and getting married, but we tuned in every week to follow the lives of a group of rich white feminine lesbians, because there weren\u2019t any\u00a0alternatives. Plus,\u00a0sitting through a film with gay characters was a sure way to test a reaction from your friends before you came out. The show’s false sense of reality gave us hope that if we were to come out to our friends and\u00a0decided to live our lives openly as gay people, life would remain relatively normal; we\u2019d have girlfriends, get married (that\u2019s what all gay people want to do, right?), adopt children, experience the occasional awkward family dinner, but ultimately, live happily ever after.<\/p>\n

This is what sets\u00a0Pariah<\/em>\u00a0apart from (white) singular-narrative LGBT films; it debunks the myth that life begins and ends between the point of self-acceptance… and a wedding.<\/p>\n

The movie\u2019s skillful orchestration of empathic story-telling and strong performances enables us to move beyond the scope of Gay and Lesbian 101 to tackle other kinds of oppression, including the\u00a0further marginalization of LGBT people of color<\/a>. Alike\u2019s family lives comfortably, allowing her to spend most of her time socializing and pursuing her interest in the arts. But Laura, who is the same age as Alike, was forced to drop out of high school when her mother kicked her out, and works overtime to help her sister (who she lives with) pay the bills while studying for her GED. Through Laura\u2019s narrative, the audience is given a glimpse into the experience of many LGBT youth, who are forced to seek refuge and community outside of their families,\u00a0risk being homeless for being themselves, yet, must keep on.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a sad observation, but then again isn\u2019t it high time that gay films which grab major distributor attention do more than just perpetuate extremely tragic or fairytale conclusions to a\u00a0now-engaged and curious public<\/a>, and present LGBT stories in all their diverse manifestations, which does include the narratives of people of color, working class people, homeless youth, and sometimes, people who are all of the above? It\u2019s no wonder thatPariah<\/em>\u00a0\u2014 along with peer releases\u00a0Circumstance<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Gunhill Road<\/a>\u00a0\u2014 has received critical acclaim for its much-needed exploration of LGBT people of color living life at the intersection of many types of societal challenges.<\/p>\n

But don\u2019t get it twisted.\u00a0Pariah<\/em>\u00a0is definitely not a sob story. In fact, the movie is filled with timely and endearing moments of humor and awkwardness that make the hold-no-punches backdrop easier to swallow; the familiar sibling banter that ensues when Alike\u2019s younger (and brattier) sister threatens to tell on her for having a \u201cgross\u201d flesh-colored dildo, a cringe-ful dinner table scene during which her parents describe how they \u201chung out on prom night\u201d, and Alike\u2019s frequent and ill-timed giggle spells whenever she\u2019s around the girl she likes. The film\u2019s strong undercurrent of family and relationships guarantees that there is something in it for everyone (no need to fear the discomfort of watching a lesbian sex scene with your parents either \u2014\u00a0Dee Rees keeps it PG).<\/p>\n

Dee Rees has created a motion picture that the larger LGBT community can be proud of, and in which people of color can see themselves carefully and sensitively projected. She may be the black lesbian Tyler Perry (in a good way). Let\u2019s hope we see more of her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Wait a minute, not all lesbians in movies are white, rich or middle-class? You mean \u201clife\u201d doesn\u2019t get put on pause so that all gay people can experience the thrill of coming out at summer camp? Hallelujah for Pariah– a film women of color (and other marginalized groups) can finally relate to!…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":4056,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18,20,110],"tags":[146,761,808,876,943],"class_list":["post-4055","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-film","category-reviews-film","category-life-at-the-intersection","tag-afrofeminism","tag-pariah","tag-queer","tag-review","tag-spectra-speaks"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4055","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4055"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4055\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4056"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4055"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4055"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/test.qwoc.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4055"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}