We finally watched 12 Years A Slave, and my, oh my. Usually, Igwe and I watch movies as soon as they come out. If not on the first or second day, then definitely in the same week. By the time the nominees for the awards are announced, we are very well aware of most of the movies. This time, however, was different. So we made it a point to catch up before the Oscars (since the other awards have passed), so we know what the fascination is about any movie.
I don’t know about the rest of you reading this, but for me personally, I am not very sensitive to racism. I am not very quick to detect when someone is discriminating against me based on my skin color, but I am sensitive to being discriminated against because of my nationality, culture, tribe, name, accent, and of course, gender. I don’t think I will ever be able to understand what Black people went through as slaves, or how that experience continues to impact them.
I know that Africans were kidnapped and sold into slavery, but it’s not something that we ever, ever spoke a lot about in Nigeria. Heck, Nigeria still acts like Biafra didn’t even happen. I don’t know anyone who was sold into slavery, nor have I ever been told that any relative of mine was sold into slavery. It wasn’t until I came to America that I began to hear and learn about slavery.
I have watched several slave movies, and every single one has the same impact: disgust, anger, more anger. I watch and see how my people were literally treated like properties and livestock, and it was all done in the name of the Lord. 12 Years A Slave tells the true story of a free Black man (played by Chiwetel Ejiofor) who was kidnapped and sold into slavery where he remained for 12 years, until he was rescued back to his family. His ordeal was horrible. They whipped him like he was a tree trunk. But he was a man, a human being. And then, there was that scene where Lupita Nyong’o’s character was whipped until her skin peeled and blood splattered with every whip. It was so difficult to watch. My tears wouldn’t stop flowing.
What hurt more was the thought that this guy’s ordeal was “good” – considering he was only a slave for 12 years and some of his other counterparts were slaves all of their lives. How can this be a way for any human being to live? I am grateful that our ancestors have gone before us and paid the ultimate price for people like me to not be treated as animals, but I am also thankful that I was not here then. And if I was, what kind of slave would I have been? What ungodly things would I have been willing to do to stay alive? Or would I have ended my life myself?
When Eliza, one of the slaves, was separated from her children, she cried till she reached the plantation and the owner’s wife told her not to worry, that her children will soon be forgotten. And that was her way of consoling the broken mother.
I don’t know what kind of person I would have been if I was an African American, if my grandmother told me stories of her picking cotton and being raped, if my uncles told me stories of my grandfather being lynched or eaten by dogs, or if I grew up believing that I was less than, that the White man will always be above me, or that the White man – both past, present, and future – was always out to get me. What kind of person would that have made me?
If you haven’t seen 12 Years A Slave, you should see it. If you’ve already seen it, what are your thoughts?
Hey Vera. I saw that joint 3 times at the movies. And every-time I did I was amazed. What amazed me the most was not what the slaves went through only. But the utter insanity that everyone in that period of time was enveloped by. Slaves, slave owners and everyone in-between. The mindset those individuals and groups lived by is something I absolutely can not understand. The part that got me the most was when he was running errands for his owner’s wife and he stumbled upon that hanging in the woods. The thought that he couldn’t do a damn thing to help. And did you see the look on one of the black men as Solomon walked by?
Soooo true! And what about that time the white guy he beat up wanted to kill him. He left him hanging there for hours. And while he was hanging there, people walked past him and played around him, but no one went to help him or wonder if he was okay. Like a black man dangling from a tree was just normal. SMH.
After watching 12 years, and maybe because Django had come not too far before, I’ve decided no more slave movies for me. I think I’m done giving myself punishment revisiting that era. I don’t feel anger at anyone, because slavery affected both the owners as well as the slaves. Like Ikedot, there is a split personality that the whole system propped up, the empathy and humanity of supposedly good people swallowed whole by the monster of greed and economics. All propped up by the good book. SMH.
Myne, I can’t blame you for not wanting to watch any more slave movies. It’s really sad to know what our brothers and sisters went through.
I have not seen the movie yet, but i read the book in college. I am a little hesitant to watch the movie as it would bring life into what I have read, and I think the book goes into a lot more details. Regardless, Its important for people to watch this movie and understand what their ancestors went through. I dont think any other slave movie or story does that era justice like this one. Solomon’s story is true and is narrated in such a way that you feel what he felt and understand all aspects of what went on at that time.
Toluwa, Solomon’s story is epic. And like I said, what is even crazier to me is that Solomon’s story is even good compared to some other people that were slaves their entire lives.
i already planned to see the movie this weekend,
now i scared…
🙁
Don’t be scared. It’s a great movie. You should watch it.
I haven’t been able to watch past the snippets on CNN. I don’t know when it would be available around my place in Nigeria. All I know is, there is this pain that I feel whenever I remember that those “slaves” were not kidnapped by the whites. Our People Kidnapped Our People and Sold Our People to Those People. We enslaved one another even before they came. We have always been our own enemy.
I’d better keep quiet about this aspect of it all.
Maybe I would one day find the strength to speak. Or maybe I need more anger to pour my mind. But today is not the day.
God bless you, Vera.