NewEnglandFilm.com

As a film reviewer and enthusiast, I’ve witnessed some very powerful stories on the silver screen. There have been moments, sitting in the dark, I have been transfigured. You become part of a pulse, part of an idea, part of humanity. The lights come up. The audience filters out. A loud, manly cough may hide tears not allowed to fall. Women, red-nosed and sniffling, convene in the bathroom to talk about how wonderful it was. There is a connection.

More than a year ago, I moved to Vermont. After a summer of firsts, among them watching a beautiful, nut-brown little girl, who I love as the child I may never have, blossom among the green mountains and healing waters of a nearby pond, I moved
from the quiet beauty of Calais to the capital city, Montpelier.

More easily than I could have imagined, I discovered a great apartment, a wonderful roommate, and all the underpaying freelance writing jobs I could handle. Life was good.

The summer waned, and winter began. But I began to feel a chill that had little to do with the temperature. I would walk into a store, and a person would physically recoil from me. Others would look at the floor or stare. Faces would redden, and on occasion eyes would send daggers. I was tempted to look behind. But it was me that was causing all the consternation before I even said hello.

There were so many issues about, near, far, and around race that I tried to step back, so to speak, to hear what it was people were really asking. I had often felt exoticized, as if I were an Eskimo Itivimuit like those filmed by Robert Flaherty, arriving in full-furred regalia from the North Pole. My ancestors, after all, I surmised, have been here since the 1700s, at the very least.

Taking to heart the interest, curiosity, as well as the encouragement, support, and kindness of other folks I met, I decided to program and present a film series during Black
History Month.

The experience of programming a Black History Month film series in Montpelier last year taught me a lot about myself and the community where I live. After each film, people said, "Thank you for bringing us this film." Some said they had wanted to have a dialogue about issues raised in the films but didn’t know where to begin. The films empowered people in a way that they now had a place to begin.

I chose to present stories — stories about family, struggles, dreams, big big dreams, and their attainment. These are African-Americans stories. Our story is not solely one of despair, victimization, malfeasance, and neglect. Or of prevailing against superhuman odds and obstacles, an equally oppressing and distressing stereotype. Little value is given to the human drama of just living — of experiencing a first love or a golden years’ second chance. Stories about motherhood, and yes, fatherhood and marriage. Stories about failure, too, that can teach as much as a story about genius, an artist whose flame is snuffed out too soon, but blazes nonetheless, while it burns. Ordinary men, women, and children who are memorable as much for their ordinariness as for their courage in living.

Film is as a starting point for discussion about diversity, identity, and culture. The opportunity for students, their families, and community members to engage with one another about the African-American experience is an important one. Each film attests, in its own way, to the power of every person to dream. The films address a rich historical and cultural legacy, and, I believe, the equally important need to be recognized, to be granted human dignity and humanity. Each of us has a story.

Some might ask, why a Black History Month program in Vermont?

While Vermont now reflects many cultures, some newer and less familiar nationalities from around the world, historically there have been few blacks here. But Africans, later African-Americans, have been here since colonial times, living and working — famously. Alexander Twilight was the first black elected to the state assembly; Reverend Lemuel Haynes, a renowned orator in the 1800s; Lucy Terry Prince the first African-American poet, and her husband, Abijan Prince, who fought in the Revolutionary War, both Vermonters; Daisy Turner, an energetic storyteller whose father had been a slave before becoming an industrious Vermont farmer and merchant. Others came to work on the railroads, in the cotton and woolen mills or granite quarries. Today, there are more African-Americans here than ever, yet the African-American experience is still foreign to many Vermonters.

Growing up in Tidewater, VA, we learned about the achievements of black Americans in high school, in social studies and government classes during Black History Week. That’s right — an entire week was devoted to the abolitionists, poets, architects, scholars, scientists, inventors, astronauts, painters, sculptures, historians, lawyers, judges, doctors, nurses, teachers, playwrights, filmmakers, actors, athletes, soldiers, generals, clerics, and ministers, cowboys and Indians, and entrepreneurs whose contributions forever changed America.

These keen minds have added immeasurably to the greatness of this country. This is why I was startled, taken aback when "white" people in Vermont were curious about black Americans. Many ascribe to "blackness" something primitive — gangsta rap music, recidivist offenders, "violent black males," unwed teen mothers, and drug use. Pejorative stereotypes litter the visual — read: TV, film, and print media — landscape. Ours, as understood by many, is a culture than began in slavery, and afterwards we assimilated civilization, i.e. Western European culture.

I felt placed in a box that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Having lived in New York City and Washington, D.C., among Latino and international peoples, whites and blacks, I was surprised by the affected myopia of many Vermonters. I was often told there weren’t many blacks here. Funny, I didn’t come here looking for black people or white people, but to work, create, and to live.

This year’s program has presented even greater challenges, but also unexpected rewards. We plan to show films at the Vermont College campus of Norwich University. Other sites include the Pavilion Auditorium in Montpelier and the Contois Auditorium at the City Hall in Burlington. I will visit the University of Vermont and participate in a lecture series on Race and Culture. The educators, volunteers, and community activists expect this year’s film program to provide an enriching experience that will facilitate a dialogue about race in order to enhance our cultural understanding.

As more of us become interested in reexamining our own long-held "beliefs" and assumptions about a representative or marginalized group, whether by race, identity, culture, religion, or gender, I hope a closer look in the mirror will foster a change in attitude.

Black History Month is an opportunity to share some of the stories that define the black experience. And I hope there is a connection. I hope that someone is inspired to make a positive difference, if only within him- or herself.