I fully intended my next (long
overdue) blog to contain details of the trip taken by my cousin, Dana and I to
New York City. What a grand city it is! As anxious as I am to share our
adventures, a gift she gave me on the morning of our departure threw me in
another direction.
As it happens, the short trip from
Delaware to New York City was taken partially as a birthday celebration. Dana
surprised me with a movie. "The Help". Hmmmm, it takes a good movie to hold my
interest. Still, she assured me I would like it. I set it aside and off we went to the Big
Apple.
Last Sunday, after a quick trip to
Costco, my husband slipped it in the DVD and we cuddled on the coach preparing
to be entertained. Entertained? By all means, with an exceptional cast. Thought
provoking? So much so that the political blood that runs through my veins
demanded I put the NYC trip on the back burner long enough to blog on the effect
this movie had on me.
The Help, based on the book of the
same name written by Kathryn Stockett, depicts the town of Jackson, Mississippi
in the 1960s. It is the year, as much as the actual movie, that gave me pause
to think of what used to be accepted as common place in this country. I love
this country as much as anyone else born here. Still we must be honest. It was
founded and remained a country of white male supremacy for most of its existence.
Though the message brought to light what
was suffered by blacks, especially black women in 1960s Jackson, it holds true
that unless we teach our children otherwise, the fights we have bitterly
encountered will be for naught.
I see it every day, all around me. Today's
young women have carelessly cast aside the hard works of the Gloria Steinems,
the Betty Friedans and before them the Susan B. Anthonys. The young African
Americans who take for granted the Rosa Parks and Martin Luther Kings of this
country. Born in 1956, I remember when a woman didn't have a choice over her
own body. One swipe of a pen and we've lost that right again. I recall the
young Dr. King being shot down, taken from his family and from us. If not for
the momentum he gained and passed forward to the next generation, The Help
would be a documentary of life today. Bet on it.
Four years ago, two of the best and
brightest ran against each other in the Democratic Primary. A black man and a
white woman fought for the nomination. They took the country by storm.
Regardless of who won, we the people would be the recipients of their
progressive thoughts and actions. I am not sure we will remember who eventually
run against the winner! What I will remember is watching the
celebration in Grant Park, celebratory tears streaming down my cheeks. Now, we
have a political party pushing to take us back to those 'glory days' of the 1960s.
They will sing the praises of the founding fathers, leaving out the part that
most were slave owners who married women with no rights.
Don't let them. Teach your children and
grandchildren what was and could well be again one day unless we watch with
vigilant eyes. Be ever watchful, lest we once again become 'The Help".
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