When starting my writing career, I had a straightforward decision to call myself a “media journalist.” Up until recently, that mostly revolved around current events in film and TV. If I ever got into a deeper topic, I always tried to explore it through media, as I believe it’s a reflection whether of the individual or the society that they have grown up in. It was easy. I talk about why Joker (2019) felt like this misguided story that promoted cynicism instead of productivity. There was nothing deeper to go into.
In all honesty, that is one of those things that I felt trapped with on my previous website Optigrab. While I loved talking about media, I was limiting myself from a bigger conversation, allowing myself to be reflected in my work. What I was writing could be described as insightful, but there was little to suggest that I had my own style. With The Memory Tourist, I intended to be more open, able to explore anything that interested me so long as it informed some part of me.
As a result, I have been more transparent about how I personally feel regarding a lot of things. I opened this website with a post talking about a panic attack I had at the start of America’s Coronavirus inclusion. I needed to find ways to better express myself, and that involved as much reflecting on media that actually interested me, but also aspects of the world that captured my interest. I personally want to promote positivity because I believe there is more value in this approach, though I know firsthand that it’s been difficult in the past few years.
So, why do I bring this all up? I say this because as much as I want to just go back to talking about media, giving my own personal take on “The Snyder Cut” or whatever nonsense interests me, it becomes difficult when you live in America in 2020. Sure, the quarantine has in theory made it easier, but it’s been a wonderful distraction from things that have upset me, allowing me to sleep at night at a reasonable hour.
I need that because towards the end of this past week, I found myself stuck in a neurotic state, unable to go to sleep because of Twitter. The social media website was electric with information that startled me, creating this deep insecurity as I saw overturned cars and police officers beating up peaceful protestors. By Friday, it was in Los Angeles, CA. That’s not far from where I live, and it felt a bit too uncomfortable. Add in that that Southern California has a bad habit of lighting up fireworks anyway right now in the lead up to Independence Day, things feel much worse at night anyways.
The trick is balancing my anxiety in all of this because in a lot of respects, this is how we’re all supposed to feel. The police brutality towards unarmed black men is supposed to eat at our soul until change is made. In a lot of respects, I’ve been devoid of having to interact with it personally, though it doesn’t mean that I’ve tried to express compassion. I know that I could quietly support the cause, promoting art from black voices while reading exposés from prominent figures on why this moment matters. I could do that, but I still feel hollow about everything.
Which is tough because I am not an outgoing person. Talk to anyone who has met me and you’ll discover that I spill more ink than conversation throughout my years. I am also well aware that I am not a primary, maybe even necessary, voice in this conversation. I am insignificant, though I wonder if it’s because of how restrictive I am as a person. I want to engage in healthy conversations, but that has been difficult. I am too scared to go out to protests for fear that cops will plant white people and stir up the controversy. I don’t know all of it, but I know from pictures that it’s tougher to misconstrue what I see.
I guess it’s why I’ve been too scared to really speak up before. What did I really have to say that was essential to the Trayvon Martin or Eric Garner deaths? I’ve tried to be more vocal during the Me Too Movement in reflecting problematic aspects of media, but once again I feel like any attempt at altruism that I’m doing as a critic is undermined by the fact that I don’t have the courage to go out and march. I don’t have any answers and all I do is not stoke a fire. That’s important, but so is actually doing something.
It’s been difficult because I don’t want to be an overtly political writer. I want to promote empathy, sure, but I am torn right now as much by the insecurity I feel watching Los Angeles burning as I am my feeling of being inconsequential. Whatever I write doesn’t feel like it’s going to matter because these events are more important.
I know that the death of George Floyd is much more important. I am not that soulless. I don’t go around yelling “All lives matter” before pulling a crossbow on unarmed protestors. I actually use my English degree to look at the language used and understand how words have consequences, where using terms like “thugs” targeted at a black audience is a form of demoralizing and even dehumanizing them. It’s the idea that a leader sees the world burning and decides instead to cry foul that people are being mean to him.
By ignoring the problem of racial divisions, we have no hope to actually fix it. The bigots will just continue believing that black perspectives should be ignored because they’re unruly, favoring violence over reason. Selective memory is a wonderful gift, but only if it favors your selection. People can kneel, carry signs, or even go bird-watching and their voices will be ignored. It’s offensive, serving more as insecure accusations than diving into a deeper conversation.
Because you can’t be heard with pacifism, I’m not entirely convinced that this wasn't inevitable. Sure, I’m personally surprised that it went national, but when you’re living in a polarized time, where the president chooses to use his waking hours playing a bully, how can we ever hope to have some semblance of guidance in this country? While it’s worked at the local level in a few cases, the federal has failed to find compassion even in the simple act of murder.
Again, I do not know everything that’s happened during these protests. Even if it’s kept me up at night, upsetting me to my core, I am more drawn to the images, or hearing Cornell West and Killer Mike discussing how this is the result of systemic racism. When nobody trusts anyone, this is what you get. You get everyone unable to work together on simple ideas, and one can hope when this is all done that the very fabric of this country’s dignity can be rebuilt as something more inclusive, more empathetic.
For now, I am not entirely mad at those who protest with reason. There’s more power in numbers, and it has felt encouraging in the past to see these massive crowds cry out for injustice.
What happened in Minnesota to George Floyd was unacceptable. I don’t know how you look at that moment and not feel something. These are unfortunately moments that most of us have permanently burned into our brains from the past decade. We can’t believe that humanity would stoop so low as to hate each other. Because nobody listens to a polite conversation, we get your local Targets burned.
I know that it may not be intentional, but for those who watch these videos or read the articles, do notice what words are being used. “Thug” in a quest for the better legislature is not good because of the derogatory meaning. Similarly, the belief that white people “protest” while black people “riot” is subliminal in its awfulness. Protest describes a disagreement. Riot, by connotation, is violent. You imagine Molokov cocktails flying through the air and windows busted out. Even if you don’t have those predilections, notice how it’s being discussed, marketed to you as something good or bad. Not all protests are seen as good, but all riots are seen as bad.
I suppose if I have anything constructive to say in all of this, it’s that we should all work on being more compassionate. Instead of looking at the protests and seeing debris everywhere, ask why they felt it was necessary to give into rage. Try and meet them as humans before you criminalize them with words that are commonly used by terrible white supremacists. I know this isn’t easy, especially in a time that encourages division, but ignoring why someone is mad will only make them madder. Try and work towards a compromise. After all, many forget that America was built on that. We sacrifice certain ideas in favor of a more unified ideal. After all, Abraham Lincoln had a "Team of Rivals," so how hard is it to find two opposing forces working together?
Deep down I know that we’re years off from fixing the irreparable damage caused by validating this negative behavior even further, but I wish that these protests actually lead to significant change. In a time where I’m already depressed because of spoiled white people™ thinking that not wearing masks in public and wanting Fuddruckers opened is a cause to riot, raising guns at city hall and spitting in cops’ faces. It’s all unsettling for different reasons, and I don’t have the answers, just years of looking for deeper meaning in how a story is told.
The truth is that I don’t intend to be political, at least not directly. In fact, the very idea of common decency should be an apolitical issue already. The world may be imperfect, but there is that part of me that believes that good will prevail. Not in the “pray it away” way, but genuine conversation and compromise, realizing that people deserved to be seen as humans with struggles. If they don’t, they’ll probably burn another building down, and I won’t exactly say that I didn’t see it coming.
As you have heard, I don’t exactly know what to do, and I fear that some will see my lack of willingness to get out and yell in the street as cowardice. Sure I won’t be remembered in my life, at least for that, but I want to hopefully come across as someone who shares ideas in my writing that are ultimately helpful. That is why I’m going to return to exploring these issues through media this week. Wednesday’s Single Awareness will focus around a protest song, and Friday will feature my (hopefully) monthly column My Advice where I explore symbolism in a film. You can guess about what.
Whether you see this post as helpful or merely a distraction full of empty rhetoric, I thought that it was important to share how a different side of media is impacting my mental health. I am not opposed to the protests going on, and I do hope that there’s justice not only for George Floyd, but everyone that Black Lives Matter has come to represent.
Much like the Coronavirus, I look towards those doing good in this world, putting in a fight to make the world a better place. There are those who are doing a more effective job than I can, and I thank you. Your voices need to be heard, and not just passed off as “thugs.” Few humans deserve that jargon, but they’re also probably the ones who don’t care how much it hurts others. I’m hoping they can realize it one day, but for now, mutual understanding needs to be reached, or else we’ll all fester and die in a nameless grave, letting the next country takeover to give freedom a chance.
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