The most worthwhile aim
of director George Tillman,
Jr.’s (“Notorious”) ambitious
adaption of Angie Thomas’s
multifaceted 2017 YA novel
“The Hate U Give” is its
complex portrayal of modern-
day
activism.
Though
the
film often struggles against
the
constraints
of
homage
to its source text, the film
still succeeds in making this
eloquent political statement all
its own, and such a statement
could not have come at a better
time. In an era where the socio-
political climate ask questions
like “What do Americans stand
for?” and “Can we believe
anything we see or hear?” the
film refuses to shy away from
them. In its brashness, it works
to rebuild the reputation of
American civil society and
restore needed momentum to
truth.
Riffing on Tupac’s “Thug
Life” — i.e. “The Hate U
Give
Little
Infants
Fucks
Everybody”
—
the
film
follows Black teenager Starr
Carter
(Amandla
Stenberg,
“Everything, Everything”) as
she reels from this hate with
which she has been given since
birth. The narrative addresses
the range of this hate, from
the micro-aggressions Starr
endures
at
the
hands
of
her
predominantly
white
classmates at the elite prep
school she attends, to the
explicit racism at the turning
point of the film: when Starr is
the sole witness to the murder
of her childhood friend Khalil
(Algee Smith, “Detroit”) at the
hands of a white cop.
The latter trauma forces
Starr to undertake an agonizing
but vital journey in pursuit
of
a
genuine,
productive,
justice-centered
breed
of
activism that will be familiar
to some audience members
but epiphanic to others. Along
the way, she gains exposure
to ideal, real and counterfeit
activism
—
alongside
the
confidence to build her own
vision thereof.
Lawyer April Ofrah (Issa
Rae, “Insecure”), who mentors
Starr as she decides whether
she will testify before the
grand jury that will determine
whether the cop who killed
Khalil will be indicted, is the
representative of ideal activism.
While some characters in the
film came across as little more
than mouthpieces to articulate
themes the storytellers hadn’t
the time to convey through
characters’
action,
Rae’s
performance stands out. Her
speeches are among the most
memorable
points
in
the
film’s 2:12 runtime, especially
her impassioned defense of
nonviolent protest as an ideal
protest at Khalil’s funeral. She
raises a particularly resonant
question in this speech as well:
How can Black people ever be
seen as unarmed if their skin is
considered a weapon? She thus
charges the media with the
task of deescalating violence,
challenging the media to stop
weaponizing race.
Tillman, Jr. also stresses
the oft-distorted realities of
activism through ground-level
shots of protest scenes. These
unmediated scenes reimagine
resistance. In one, resistance
is chanting the names of the
unjustly killed in the streets.
In
another,
resistance
is
holding up your cell phone
— nonviolently policing the
police. In a climactic scene
and affirmation of Stenberg’s
talent, resistance is standing
on the hood of a car, screaming
a eulogy of your murdered
friend
into
a
megaphone
while police ready the tear
gas. One constant, heartening
variable across these scenes of
resistance is the instrumental
role youth play in them.
Imposter activism appears
in two forms. First, we see it
in those who selfishly pretend
to stand for just causes. Starr’s
white classmates embody this
treachery in a particularly
sickening
scene
where
Starr’s
friends
reveal
that
their primary motivation for
attending a protest for Khalil’s
case is so they can leave school
early. The second form appears
in those who misrepresent
protest efforts to undermine
it.
Tillman,
Jr.
carefully
juxtaposes the raw scenes of
civil disobedience with the
media-packaging
thereof,
exposing
the
disparities
between
activism
and
its
imposter dominating television
news.
Herein lies a weakness in
the film, however. While some
of its deliberate ambiguities
were
productive
—
for
instance, the moral ambiguity
of every character subverted
the mass media’s reliance on
simply casting figures as good
and evil to neglect the more
complex systems of evil which
individuals
either
consent
to or resist — others were
detrimental.
An
inordinate
number of subplots (the most
confounding of which focused
on Starr’s white boyfriend) and
contrived scenes that served
as little more than an homage
to Thomas’ novel ate up time,
leaving audiences in want of
more direct evaluations of the
media’s role in systemic issues.
Nonetheless, the necessity of
the film’s well-argued message
about activism renders it a
film not only worth seeing but
perhaps obligatory if we hope
to reinvigorate civil society.
“Let’s cry and watch shitty
Netflix shows together,” my best
friend texted me on Oct. 6th, the
same day that the full Senate
voted on the nomination of Judge
Brett Kavanaugh for Supreme
Court Justice. Any other day,
poking fun at less than average
actors and oddly placed camera
angles while sobbing into a bowl
of Ben and Jerry’s would’ve cured
my sadness almost instantly.
But as I cuddled next to my best
friend, a woman I knew had
been a victim to the same type of
sexual assault our new Supreme
Court Justice was accused of, I
could only feel the sadness and
anger I held within myself even
more viscerally. The days that
followed that Oct. 6th nomination
were days I spent listening to
survivors of sexual assault. I
couldn’t believe that nearly all
of my female identifying friends
had experienced sexual assault
in one way or another. Actually,
now that I think about, it really
isn’t that hard for me to believe.
I decided that I wanted to
create a space where my friends
could talk to one another about
their experiences as a woman in
the United States of America. On
one Friday afternoon, I invited
them over to my house for coffee.
We sat down and listened to
each other, in the way that Dr.
Christine Blasey Ford should’ve
been listened to. We didn’t just
listen —but we believed.
We shared stories about our
bottoms being grabbed without
consent while dancing at parties.
We talked about being cat called
while walking to lecture. Of our
male teachers asking us to stay
for a little too long after class,
looking too closely at new blouses
that had been purchased. My
Black friends shared stories about
them going on dates with boys
who fetishized their Blackness,
saying “I’ve only ever dated
white girls before. You’re pretty
exotic.” We talked to one another
for nearly four hours that day, and
at the end of the conversation,
the walls of my room seemed to
sigh with us in exhaustion after
having listened to all we have
gone through. We reached one
unfortunate conclusion with our
discussion: There didn’t seem
to be much hope of anything
getting better. Especially, when
this man, who has publicly been
accused of committing the same
type of violence toward women
we experience daily, holds one of
the highest and most respected
positions in our government.
As women, how are we to
believe that we are respected
when the men who have openly
shown blatant disrespect toward
us have all of the power in our
politics? Often times, I feel that
people separate politics and the
human condition. I hear a lot that
“political views don’t define a
person as good or bad.” I believe
that in some cases this can be
true. However, I find it difficult to
look at my older brother, an open
supporter of Brett Kavanaugh,
and believe that he respects
me and my place as a woman in
this society. I don’t want to see
my brother, someone I love, as
someone who does not see me as
a human being worthy of being
listened to. But I worry that if
I approached him and told him
of that one time in high school,
when a boy held my thigh for a
little too long and that escalated
to the boy holding other parts of
me for way too long, would my
brother believe me when I told
him I didn’t want it? Would my
brother tell me my skirt was too
short? Would he tell me I got too
drunk that night? That I had too
much beer? Would he follow the
same logic that Brett Kavanaugh
and the rest of the Republican
Party seems to follow when
excusing themselves for their
actions against women? I’m not
sure I want to know the answer.
Answers are something I have
been looking for a lot since early
Oct. One question in particular
I wish I could answer was
asked to me the very night of
the nomination. I tried to make
my arms into a fort that would
protect my best friend as she
quivered beneath my embrace,
but I don’t think I have the power
to save her from a nation that
refuses to even acknowledge
she has anything to be saved
from. She cried into my shoulder,
and the question I wish I could
resolve emerged in between her
tears:
“If they didn’t believe her,
when she gave that kind of a
speech, when she has those kind
of degrees, when all of America is
watching, why in the hell would
anyone ever believe me?”
I believed her, though. That
isn’t enough, but, in that moment,
it needed to be. The women
sitting in my bedroom the
following week believed her. And
maybe we don’t have any power
right now. Maybe we don’t have
any voice that people want to
hear. Maybe our country doesn’t
view us beyond a sexual object.
Maybe
we
aren’t
respected,
or listened to or believed right
now. But we will be. We need to
be. This shouldn’t be a battle we
have to fight, but it is. We need to
believe one another. We need to
believe her. I believe her. Do you?
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, October 25, 2018 — 5B
In the 2018 fashion scene,
what you’re wearing is either
conformity
or
rebellion.
Laws of fashion hold us to
this standard, but in wake of
changes in political climate,
tensions in our government
are shaping the fashion world
as well. Or rather, the fashion
world is contributing to the
shape politics are taking today.
With primaries under our belts,
midterms on the horizon and
a new Supreme Court Justice
sworn in, among other world
altering events, it seems as
though we will never be able to
keep up with these variations
and their effects on our political
system. As new movements
and conflicts rise and fall, the
fashion world follows suit. And
although hard to believe, new
trends in everyday fashion are
seriously
impacting
politics
and how we share our views, as
we can quite literally wear our
opinions on our sleeves.
The
prominence
of
the
t-shirt has been present in
fashion since the beginning of
time. Its simplicity, practicality
and comfort have upheld this
iconic design as a staple in style
and fashion. But, as fashion
has evolved and trends have
changed, so has the t-shirt.
In recent years, graphic tees
have centered themselves as
a pinnacle of a very curated,
eclectic,
carefree
aesthetic.
Starting in the ’70s with the
popularity of repping band
logos, the graphic tee has since
only evolved to reach corners
of all industries beyond just
music.
They have worked their way
into everyday wardrobes, they
can be dressed up or down and
there is certainly no limit to
content that can be printed on
a t-shirt. In just single stores
alone, whole sections have
become dedicated to the trend
of graphic tees. The curated
aesthetic created by centering
an outfit around a graphic tee
is one many teens and young
people strive for, sometimes
perhaps without even realizing
what message they are sending
by wearing certain graphics.
As graphics have seeped their
way into the closets of style
gurus everywhere, so they have
also headed up many political
movements, completely altering
the way these movements are
viewed.
The clearest example has to
be the women’s movement. In
the 2017 Women’s March on
Washington,
tees
imprinted
with “Nasty Woman”, “Raise
I believe Dr. Ford
URBAN OUTFITTERS
STYLE NOTEBOOK
Graphic tees and wearing
your voice on your sleeve
MARGARET SHERIDAN
Daily Arts Writer
PERSONAL NOTEBOOK
ALIX CURNOW
For the Daily
Boys and Girls the Same Way”
and “This Pussy Grabs Back”
made the amount of voice
coming from the event almost
double, as the presence of
these words on shirts serve
as a constant visual reminder
of these women’s rightfully
justified
angerwith
our
government and president in
addition to their conversations
surrounding gender equality in
politics.
We
see
these
graphics
stating “Black Lives Matter,”
“#MeToo,”
the
LGBTQ
movement and even the t-shirt
Frank Ocean wore to the
Panorama Music festival called
on audiences to just be quiet
before being racist, sexist or
homophobic.
These examples don’t cover
even half of the political content
that graphic tees have begun
to cover in recent years. It is a
beautiful concept, to have the
ability to take ownership over
one’s political views and raise
awareness about movements
for change is an extremely
empowering concept, one that
is allowing more and more
people to be included in the
groups represented by these
shirts and graphics. To be able
to incorporate political views
into everyday wardrobe truly
combines the best of both
politics and fashion, but while
this stylish alternative seems
oh-so-chic, there’s a fine line
between the intersectionalities
that
lie
within
this
incorporation
of
graphics
and politics that can make
for a challenging difference
between representing political
views
and
movements
and
just wearing certain tops as
an accessory rather than for
raising actual awareness and
culminating change.
Graphic tees serve as a
great opportunity for raising
political awareness, but with
so many of them circulating
the fashion world, the purpose
of this fashion staple has
very
quickly
become
more
of a solely aesthetic choice
or form of bandwagoning as
opposed to an actual effort to
benefit political movements.
The consumer or producer
cannot take the blame for this
strange cycle; it’s practically
impossible
to
avoid
when
stores like Urban Outfitters
have added “Vote” tees to
their graphic tee collection,
inviting young people to start
purchasing them, with half of
them not even sure if they’re
registered to vote. Graphic tees
make it so easy to get behind a
moment, creating a challenging
double-edged sword to grapple
with. To truly take ownership
and proudly wear a “Nasty
Woman” t-shirt, be prepared
to vote, participate in marches
and stay in the loop about
current events is completely
different from purchasing the
shirt solely because you saw
another girl looking cute in
it on Instagram. With social
media shaping politics, there
is a certain vulnerability that
comes with sharing political
views
or
rallying
behind
movements. Sometimes it can
make people feel as though
they need to prove themselves
in
a
certain
way,
hence
causing
over-compensation
in items like graphic tees for
various movements, even if
it isn’t something the person
is
completely
invested
or
educated in.
Both
extremely
powerful
tools
in
society,
fashion
and social media are truly
influencing
the
way
we
perceive politics. With both
of these platforms, we as
individuals are now, more than
ever, more capable of making
politics an inclusive topic, one
where we can help others learn
about things they might not
be as familiar with in order to
benefit the greater good and
truly change our government.
So let’s selectively choose those
graphic tees, and curate them
to things we truly know about,
encouraging our friends to
become politically aware and
create inclusive spaces in a field
that can sometimes seem so
uninviting and confusing. Let
us fashionably make a change
in politics.
“The Hate U
Give”
Ann Arbor 20 +
IMAX
20th Century Fox
20TH CENTURY FOX
‘The Hate U Give’ makes
civil disobedience cool
JULIANNA MORANO
For the Daily
FILM REVIEW
As women, how
are we to believe
that we are
respected when
the men who’ve
openly shown
blatant disrespect
toward us have
all of the power in
our politics?