By now, a lot of us have prepared ourselves to watch Ava DuVernay’s When They See Us, a 4- part docu-series that journies us through the infamous 1989 Central Park Rape case, that happened in New York City.
This series chronicles the “Central Park 5” and their presumed/coerced guilt, familial and custodial trauma, prison abuse, and proclaimed innocence, that not only shook their lives but this country.
DuVernay was not shy about portraying the cold-hearted, and gut-wrenching truth of injustice toward black and brown boys at the hands of a system that was made to mentally, emotionally, and physically enslave us.
In this docuseries, Raymond Santana, Kevin Richardson, Antron McCray, Yusef Salaam, and Korey Wise’s truths are told. It forces ones’ eyes to witness the
coercion of monsters, the prejudice of privilege, and the detriment of “civil” duty. When They See Us is an intentional observation, therefore you must be ready to endure its ride.
I was not ready.
Before this docuseries, I had no idea what the Central Park 5 Jogger Case was about, or who the Central Park 5 were. A slew of emotional posts on social media from people who watched the series stimulated my curiosity.
I assumed I would be starting a fiction movie. I had no idea the reality that would be forced to my face, so after the first thirty minutes of episode one, I was forced to turn it off.
For Black and Brown people, When They See Us, was a voluminous depiction of our daily reality. For most, it was a horror film. The obvious and intentional showing of the injustices that are
plagued upon our black boys, was a monster in the closet, coming out and interrupting our dreams with hellish nightmares–and having the audacious fearlessness to creep up on us, even when we dismissed it.
It was too real, too “in your face”, and maybe too soon for their stories to be re-lived out loud. But, for me, it was too important, not to tell.
Like many who watched it, I initially felt anger. There was this immediate rage I felt toward this system who could allow five innocent children to become victimized, and dehumanized when they should have been protected. I felt anger that it stripped away at the heart of the black family unit.
I felt anger that 1989 was only thirty years ago, and as a 29-year-old woman with a 4-year-old black son, the proximity of this monster could even live this close to me. I was angered that the heart-wrenching truth that a person’s skin color, demeanor, or socio-economic background could result in something so revolting, was unnerving. While I recognized this monster, I was not ready to witness his debut in such a ground-breaking story.
I am still
processing it all.
The title alone gave me chills. The vagueness of it all–who are “they”, or who is “us” leaves you feeling a certain disconnect, or separation from a particular entity. It forces you to take your place in a corner of darkness, and rarely gives you light, until the end. To be able to do that in such a brilliant way, DuVernay created something that pulls at your heart, draws tears from your eyes, and involuntarily chant negro spirituals in your sleep.
Above all things, it forces you to an uncomfortable place while giving you little to no breathing room to compose your emotions, or anything else worthy of your attention. It makes you see that even being close to the truth, is scary.
I am not opposed to these kinds of films. Movies made from our tragedies are gifts to this world. Our sacrifices just for being black, or because we’ve been accustomed to speak our own language, are gifts to this world.
Our opposers don’t get the chance to turn their heads at our truths out of fear of being uncomfortable, or dismiss our reality because they’d rather keep their closet doors void of this
fearless monster…Why should they, anyway? This is their monster. It belongs to them, it was created by them, and only walks this earth because of them. The US is who I care about.
I care about the future Raymond Santanas, Kevin Richardsons, Antron McCrays, Yusef Salaams and especially, the Korey Wises who are only minutes away from this kind of monster and being engulfed by the flames of this kind of Hell. What can we do to better educate, protect, or ready them for this reality?
What resources are needed to strengthen and solidify the family unit so that we don’t break at the sight of despair? Is there a special kind of glue you can buy that is strong enough to keep us, and everything together when this monster starts ripping your bed-sheets to shreds in an attempt to get you? Will you even notice the monster when it arrives?
The scariest thing is this: Black and Brown people have been subjected to much worse than this, that we still owe our healing to. If there is a time to heal, it’s been due. If there is a time to be angry, it’s been due. If there is a time to be emotional, it’s been due. The covers hid our emotions–Ava DuVernay only removed the covers before the monster would have the chance to.
We owe her, the actors, and the entire production team for piecing together this true story so that we could see, in plain sight, if never before, the kind of monster we’ve been up against. Through this, we at least know what to be prepared for, whenever they see us, again.
Abril Green (Edwards) is an author, spoken word artist & motivational speaker; founder of #BumpyButNotBlocked Ministries & Spoken WorDship where she spits “Poetry with A Purpose”. Currently a Literacy Interventionist at Chicago Public Schools, Abril believes “the greatest relationship outside of Man and His Higher Power, is between a Pen and HER Paper.”
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