We Are Still Not the Same

My stepdaughter, S, recently went to the theater with her daddy to see the movie version of Hairspray. If you don’t know it, the main character is a white Baltimore teenager called Tracy who loves to dance. The story takes place during segregation, and Tracy takes part in a civil rights march supporting, as sort of a microcosm of larger issues, the right of black kids to dance with whites on the local kids’ dance show. Racial relations is a central theme of the movie, including Alison Janney’s repressed, Catholic daughter learning that

The blacker the berry
The sweeter the juice
I could say it ain't so
But darlin', what's the use?
The darker the chocolate
The richer the taste
And that's where it's at...
...now run and tell that!!

At any rate, S loves the movie, and she and her dad had a really good conversation about segregation, civil rights, and discrimination -- although I think that she actually learned the most because she loved Tracy so much, and saw such a moving and relatable depiction of these issues in Tracy’s life on the screen.

Recently the Washington Post had a Kids’ Post about the presidential election. I watched my husband explain the basic ideas to S -- likening political parties to “teams,” and explaining that first, each team had to pick a captain, and then the teams would play against each other and whichever team won would see its captain become President. As she always does when ideological -- or sports-related -- distinctions come up in our house, S wanted to clarify which “captain” I supported, and which her father did. I said I liked Mr. Obama, but I also kind of liked Mrs. Clinton (whose husband used to be President himself). We explained that Hillary was the very first woman who might really be elected President. S said, “Well, I might vote for her just because she’s a girl.” You and millions of midlife women, baby doll. What didn’t occur to her, interestingly, was to notice or be curious about the fact that Barack Obama is black. [What this means about the relative status of race-relations in this generation versus that of the women’s rights movement, I haven’t figured out yet. I’ll need to ask her more questions.]

I’ll admit that, after seeing Hairspray, rather than pursuing the race-relations angle with her, we’ve encouraged S on a bit of a movie-musical kick. Lately we’ve seen Grease a few times and it’s been playing in the car. I myself had never seen it before S did (I don’t know, maybe I spent 1978 under a rock), and I was horrified when I realized that at the end Olivia Newton-John whores herself up to win Danny. [My husband points out that Danny changes, too, and I suppose he’s right, but it’s not as though Danny cleans himself up and starts dressing like Rydell sports hero Tom/Lorenzo Lamas.] Still, she loves the music, and I’m hoping that S sees the message a little differently at this early age. So far, so good -- Sandy is almost irrelevant to S, whorish or angelic. She hasn't mentioned Sandy at all. For some reason, S likes Frenchy the best. She was genuinely worried when Frenchy's hair turned pink. I’m not sure what that means, but I do take note that S is generally a lot more uptight about having the right hair, making sure other people like her and not getting fat than she is about the fact that one of her close friends is Indian, Mulan is Chinese and Ray Lewis (#52) is black.

Now, S attends public elementary school in Montgomery County, MD. Our county is about 67% white, 17% black, 14% Asian or Latino, 2% biracial . . . . Let’s just say that from a multicultural perspective, S is having a very different experience than I did growing up. So, the other day Grease was on in the car when I was driving the kids home from school. S was asking a bunch of questions about the movie. For example, she wanted to know whether high school nowadays included choosing “teams” like the Pink Ladies. No, I thought, now it’s sort of everyone for herself. That is, unless you're a Crip. Do they still have Crips? I lost my train of thought. But then, as the closing credits rolled, she said,

“Anne, was this back when there were black people and white people?”

I did a double-take in the rear-view, but then I realized she was asking whether the movie took place during a segregated era, like Tracy Turnblatt’s Baltimore. “Yes,” I said, “Exactly.” She said, “Well that explains why everyone is the same.” I wish, baby.