Attending the movie, Hidden Figures was the way my family chose to honor Martin Luther King Day. It was fabulous. For a family created through transracial adoption, it was particularly special to have a film honor the intelligence and courage of three African-American women. It did not sugar-coat the realities of their lives, nor did victimize them either.
We love walking to the movie theater near our home to see films. That is my husband and I love to walk. My kids tend to complain. They didn’t know what movie we were taking them to see this time either. Primarily because I thought they would complain about that too, but I knew they would like the film once it began. This walk was particularly unpleasant because my daughter was triggered by something right before we left, and she became extremely upset.
My daughter was so upset she was actually yelling while we were walking. She was yelling about her fears about the racism she will face in life as a black person and her struggles growing up with white parents. Legitimate worries for sure, but not ones I wanted to address out in public. I knew I could coerce her to be quiet, but I was concerned about letting her internalize all that anger. So I listened to her yell as we walked and tried to reflect back what I heard her say. There were several pedestrians we passed during her tirade. Usually she keeps herself more composed in pubic, but not this time. Thankfully in Minnesota, people are fairly polite about public scenes. Actually Minnesotans just pretend they are not happening.
By the time we got to the movie, my daughter exhausted her concerns and calmed down. She was excited to see the movie. She apologized for the way she handled herself. She explained she did not mean all the things she said, and she helped clarify some of what she meant. Then, she moved on. I, on the other hand, found it harder to move on. I was deeply troubled by the things she had said and was worried about their implications. I started worrying that I wasn’t doing enough for her, that all the therapeutic interventions we are trying are not enough. I started worrying about my parenting style and whether I am wrong in letting her express herself so loudly and freely. However, then I started thinking about some of the disturbing things I think about myself but never say and that sometimes that gives them too much power. I also reminded myself that all the things we think are temporary thoughts. My daughter’s thoughts, as yelled out into the streets of Minneapolis, are still just thoughts. They change. Thoughts and feelings always pass. Hers did. So there is no need for me to hang on to them either.
This isn’t to say I am not going to do everything I can to give my daughter the support she needs to grow into a whole, healthy black woman. I will. This isn’t to say I do not need to be continually aware of ways that I may need to shift my parenting style. I do. But I am so grateful for the way the movie Hidden Figures helped show my daughter what it means to be a black woman, something I cannot do as a white woman. It affirmed some of the realities of her fears about what it means to be an African American woman in this country, while also showing her how other courageous women before her dealt with those realities. Furthermore, it showed me something about the kind of woman I want to be as well. I want to be a woman who uses all her intelligence, creativity, and courage to make the world a better place. I will not be a victim. i will not let others define for me what I can and cannot do. I am free and powerful and valuable to this world.
