The Movement

It was intriguing to read an article highlighting the catharsis experienced by the Asian-American journalist who watched the box-office hit "Crazy Rich Asians."  A lot of her sentiment could easily be cross pollinated to the wildly enthusiastic reactions of African Americans to the global box-office sensation Black Panther.

The existential challenge of constantly being seen as other, foreign, or invisible in a dominant culture was not lost on me as she exquisitely articulated her angst and celebration of seeing an all Asian cast highlight the complexity of the diaspora found in Asians who have acculturated in many different parts of the world.  She spoke of how refreshing it was to see people that looked like her not portrayed as cheap facsimiles that were either caricatured martial arts experts or tragic survivors of despotic driven pogroms.

Similar to W.E.B.Dubois' allusion to a divided soul, she anguished over the challenge to cultivate an identity that is virtuous to one's heritage while not falling into a crevasse in between.  She introduced  a pejorative term-banana- that could be the equivalent of the derisive "oreo"  I remember hearing hurled at black folks who were accused of assimilating or acting white.  Banana meant that you were "yellow" on the outside but white on the inside.  The thing that struck me about this article is that my friends whose families hailed from Vietnam, Hong Kong, China, or Southeast Asia were never this transparent in their assessment of the duality of cultures many experience in Eurocentric countries.

The hegemony of one culture is engendered by default of population dominance and tribalism. The ubiquity of all things European does not beset one who is not consciously made aware of its preeminence until social eruptions like integration or immigration that could irretrievably alter the demographics of the nation become a concern.  The axiom of the United States being a "melting pot" always struck me as politically and culturally naive.  At best we are a heterogeneous mix, more like a salad where each individual ingredient maintains its own identity within the amalgamation.

 Cinema has long been the creative portal to illustrate the human tapestry that shows the state of the union. Hollywood's portrayal as liberal and egalitarian has not translated in the number of projects like Crazy Rich Asians or Black Panther green lighted by executives. Movie making by its very nature is collaborative and "inclusive."  The challenge has been that the lens by which projects are deemed profitable and having global appeal has been suffocatingly limited to an archetype that finds very little intrinsic value in hues, stories, and narratives that are outside the safe spectrum of their myopic sensibilities.

The story of America's rich heritage found within its incredible citizens is gaining bandwidth.  This is not growing as subtext or sidebars.  There is an increased awareness that the pattern recognition of what it means to be American is decoupling from a tired, familiar trope.  That is actually a good thing.

It was always (still is) my belief that the truth was immutable, inelastic, intractable and not subject to the court of public opinion or vacillating social mores.  With that as a premise, I find the term "my truth" problematic and highly subjective as it has gained increased bandwidth in the national narrative of social movements.  If we expunge moral absolutes, then the basis of this statement undulates like the popularity of dance moves.  I had an interesting discussion with my enlightened, intelligent sixteen-year old daughter about the growing concern of allegations being tantamount to guilt within the context of the #ME TOO movement.

As a husband, father, brother, nephew, uncle, cousin to incredible women and young ladies, I have a less than zero tolerance for inappropriate or violent behavior-verbal or physical-directed towards women! What has become very troubling is that now the hint, allegation, intimation of boorish, crude or aggressive behavior by a man transmogrifies into something resembling the prolific serial assault of Harvey Weinstein, the catalyst behind the movement.  Let me be clear, our patrician culture has without question fostered the behaviors that not only engendered predatory conduct, but I have personally seen the direct impact to women who have been the recipient of this sadistic "boys will be boys" axiom.

However, there seems to be in this glacial swing of the pendulum, a propensity to look past the same abuse of authority that spawned this national uproar. This movement has ignited a conflagration of which no one seems to be concerned about the possibility of collateral damage.  My daughter began to voice a concern about unsubstantiated claims by women not only gaining traction, but even after losing credibility still being given a shelf life that ultimately proved ruinous to the innocent.  My daughter wasn't giving a Stepford wife response as if the accusation against powerful men was without merit.  Somehow, in this new zeitgeist, improbity can not be attached to the accuser.

It seems that the new script singularly affords truth to be the sole domain of the accuser.  The presumption of innocence, a cornerstone of our legal system, seems to be withering on the judicial vine.  There is an old adage that says, ' the abused tend to become abusers."  Unfortunately, there seems to be a dangerous precedent emerging as the scaffolding for the old construct that devalued and subjugated women to this doleful, sexual misconduct without recourse is being torn down. The cautionary tale is what will this much needed shift yield as the voiceless and the powerless are given a platform to change this troubling trend.