I Cried at Precious by Mel B

I cried at Precious because, for the first time, a big, black girl had the starring role in a major movie.

I cried at Precious because I could relate to her.  Her feelings that no one loved her. Being the biggest girl in class.  Her fantasies of a better life that included being the video girl on BET and the light-skinned boyfriend with good hair.  Growing up poor and depending on the State.  Having teachers who pushed you to excel when you needed it.  Friends and strangers who treat you better than your own family.

I cried at Precious because my mama was the same way – ignorant.  To chose a man over your own child.  To allow abuse to go on right under your nose.  To be jealous of your own child and allow those feelings to turn to mental and physical abuse.  To place your own child in harm’s way because you were too weak to change.

I cried at Precious because, out of all the roles Monique has played, I wonder why this one won her an Oscar.  (But I feel the same way about Halle’s Oscar.)  Are these the type of roles we have to play in order to get Hollywood recognition and validation? 

I cried at Precious because of all stereotypes and generalizations I saw.  The teenage mother.  The sexual abuse victim.  The single mother.  The absent, abusive father.  The broken, unhealthy relationships.  The uneducated black people.  Women being viewed as sexual objects, not to be respected.  Women who don’t even respect themselves.    

I cried at Precious because, even though this was a movie, there are so many Preciouses out there.   The odds were stacked against her before she even had a chance to help herself.  And now the odds are stacked against her children.  And so the cycle continues.  And even though she is on the right path, it’s going to be a struggle.  And a lot of people give up because they can’t handle the struggle.

I cried at Precious.