The entire cast is stellar, but I absolutely do have my favorite characters. Randall and Beth, otherwise known as R&B, are my dream characters. I see my husband and I in both of them. And isn’t referring to them as R&B, i.e. Rhythm and Blues, totally appropriate? Yesssss. Because sometimes marriage is all Ain’t Nobody(Chaka Khan) and other times it’s more End of the Road(Boys II Men). You feel me??
The last few weeks have almost exclusively focused on Randall and Beth. I’ve had some loving, harsh words for Randall recently. I love him SO much, but bruh has been T R Y I N G it. I’ll admit I lost faith in faith in him. I wasn’t sure his love for Beth was greater than his need to be seen and valued by the masses. His abandonment issues have always left him striving for worthiness outside of himself.
I’m so happy I was wrong. The sigh that escaped my body was definitely audible when I realized the two would find their way back to each other. They found the door. Even as a fictional couple, I understand the impact of authentic representation.
Growing up Black is a be seen and not heard kind of existence. In my experience, to find a Black child with the authority to fully BE, in the presence of adults is the exception; not the rule. Control, rules, excellence and respectability are major components of the Black child rearing experience. Black children need to grow up with their shit together. This didn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s a direct result of slavery, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Era and a post racial America *side eye*. The privilege of speaking about anything at anytime was snatched from us and whipped out of us on slave ships, auction blocks, in the fields and in the big house.
Saying the “wrong” thing or being at the “wrong” place at that time could get an adult or even a child, literally killed— It still can. We have too many examples. Being seen and not heard is not a simplified way to parent; it’s a safety mechanism. Part of the Black experience is simply trying to keep your children alive in a way that it isn’t true for other races. The same is true of how we are steered towards career choices. Careers that are perceived as frivolous, i.e. dancer, artist or musician are not routinely supported.
We need to re-contextualize strength. Like, what does it even mean to be “the strong one”?
Because it is NOT the absence of fear or pain or desire or disappointment. I believe that we have, in error, taken a patriarchal view of strength and applied it to our emotional sensibilities in an effort to make us appear less weak. They told us that strength and weakness cannot dwell in the same space. Men, for too long, set the expectation for tolerable behavior for women. Women are killing themselves to meet it. And women are cosigning this behavior. It must stop.
I am trying to negotiate an understanding of literal strength, figurative strength and the reality of my actual strength. What does it look like? What does it feel like? How have I previously misunderstood and in turn misrepresented strength. I am currently being forced to confront these feelings of wanting to be strong, solvent and also having to embrace that pieces of me breaking.
