My mother is white and my father was black. I am not alone in this. I grew up in the Bronx, New York City. Born in 1967. A relatively safe time and place for a brown girl of ambiguous ethnicity. As the mother of two little brown girls, I like to believe that race doesn't matter much. But the election of Barack Obama woke me up. Ignorance is everywhere. Race labels ring in my ears. They stick and they stain. Even when they fade. This is my rant, from “post-racial America”. Hoping to shed some light.

Monday, February 28, 2011

The Oscars Briefly

While I'm throwing in my 2 cents on Awards Season doings, let me add my voice to a question I've seen posted repeatedly: Where were the black films this year?

Let me confess that I haven't seen many films in the past year. So my perspective may be a little narrow. I have no direct experience with any of Tyler Perry's projects, including his new film version of the groundbreaking play, "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf". My favorite flick of the past 12 months was the crazy and marvelous "I'm Still Here", starring Joaquin Phoenix, who has my attention no matter what he does because he has a certain fabulousness I can't ignore. The movie was a gas. The premise was provocative, fresh, and very naughty. LOVED IT.

From the narrow perspective afforded by the worn red couch in my living room, having seen NONE of the contenders for Best Film excepting Toy Story 3 (guess why), I couldn't help but notice that Oprah Winfrey, Halle Berry, and the late great Lena Horne stood out in the program in that weird Beautiful Black Women kinda way. Their achievements and contributions to the medium are huge. But they weren't in any breakout films in the last year.

And then... the grand finale was another feast for the eyes, in that Beautiful Brown Children kinda way. I adored those gloriously multi-culti fifth graders from Staten Island, NY who closed the show. They were fantastic, and their choir leader is clearly a god among men. It did leave me wondering, though, if there wasn't an eleventh hour push by the show's producers to bump up the brown.

I have my fingers crossed, that all the loud-mouthed black artists with something important to say have spent the past year busy in their studios and on location, and that next year's awards season will be flavored with strange and savory fruits.

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