Seeing. Feeling. 'Precious'

I saw 'Precious' today. I don't want to give the story away, because I hope all of my readers take time to see this film. This is the kind of social commentary that's needed, even though the movie's set in 1987. Here's a portion from the Los Angeles Times' review, from Betsy Sharkey:

In a no-child-left-behind world, Precious was lost long before she could be left. No self-esteem to speak of, she tries for invisibility. At school it's easier, no one is really interested. At home, she's got a soul-destroying nightmare of a mother who has made Precious her project. Played to fearless and godless perfection by Mo'Nique, Mary spends her days in front of the TV while hurling a steady stream of invective -- along with the occasional frying pan -- in her daughter's direction.

Hope should not exist in all that despair, but Precious turns out to be an odds-defying storm that batters the emotions, shakes the soul and still manages to put a silver lining on the blackest of clouds in ways you might not have thought possible.

When the school counselor discovers Precious is pregnant, the story begins its painful descent into the world of America's underclass. There is no safety net for Precious -- her family, social services and the educational system have all failed her.

You better RTWT to get the full details, but I can say this movie tugged at me personally. (I can say ...) Precious is raped and it's graphic at the film. But it's the film's pain that comes closest to where I'm coming from. My father was abusive in the way Precious' mom is abusive. It's an inexplicable soul-grind of a life, and if you feel trapped, it's either those flights of fantasy that save you (Precious daydreams to take her away) or it's thoughts of an early demise by one's own hand. My dad beat me with a belt when I was a small child (for small things, like not finishing my chores). But it was when I was grown that he nearly beat me down, berating me for my inadequacies, for not being the "man" he was, and for being my mother's favorite (and hence the cause of my parents' divorce). But what really tugged at me was the pigs feet. Yep, Precious cooks. In fact, when she starts at the alternative school her teacher goes around the room asking for introductions, and each girl is asked to say something positive about themselves. "What do you do well?", the teacher asks Precious. She shakes her head, nothing. Then pressed, she says, "I can cook." And boy can she. And that's the thing. Boy could my dad cook. Dinner time was like heaven around that house (my dad's), and when I see Precious cooking up that soul food it takes me back to family's heritage. That's a black thing that I no longer have. I never could cook that well (and I prefer hamhocks to pig's feet anyway). But I suspect there's something special about abuse in the black family. (There's always abuse, but culture matters, and I think inner-city black poverty is distinctive.) We weren't poor growing up in my house, but my dad was basically orphaned at 12 years-old. He bore that pain his entire life, ultimately taking it out on me - the only male child - and driving my mother away in divorce after about 20 years of marriage.

But there's something else. It's the poverty, which I've never experienced. Precious' mom is a welfare queen. She's dishonest and milking the system. And when you watch the film's conclusion you'll be devastated, practically assaulted by the fact that such truly demonic indifference to the welfare of a child is possible.

If folks have thought about my writing, and my interests, a lot of the things I write about and rehash are things that have intrigued me all my life, things that I've needed to explain. Never growing up in the inner city itself, but being raised with cultural blackness, is something that's forever a shaper of identity. But I suppose my dad had assets the truly poor and disadvantaged have never had (he was educated at NYU), and so I've had benefits that don't often end up making it downtown. If more Americans really understood what was happening, if they had a clue to these pathologies, then perhaps we'd spend more time focusing on what works (education and networks of private support, not welfare). If folks remember my report on 'The Providence Effect,' you'll know what I'm saying. We've got to do something in this country. As bad as Precious had it, she's gonna make it out. But see the film to know exactly what I'm saying.

*******

ADDENDUM: Since I noted my abusive dad, I should probably indicate that if you've seen 'Affliction', well, that's my story without the poverty and pig's feet. I'm lucky I didn't kill my old man.