(Dear Mama) I Hated My Mom Too

In an effort to elucidate the how and why of the evolution of the mainstream Black American coming-of-age subgenre (particularly the covert repackaging of filmic Black stereotypes foundational to the American cinematic tradition- namely the coon, buck, and mammy- under the veil of greater diversity and representation behind the camera in the 90s), this paper will undertake a transhistorical and interdisciplinary analysis of the precarious, internecine, and contradictory positions held by the “Black child” and “Black woman/mother” in film. Furthermore, it will address how this has affected Black men’s notions of personhood and kinship, but from the vantage point of the “misnamed” Mother and Daughter as theorized by Hortense Spillers. The main premise undergirding this argument is that the Moynihan report, as analyzed by Spillers, affected a dialectical and lexical shift in the analyzation and construction of the Black (nuclear) family in a way that is still being grappled with in the social and Black social consciousness (Spillers 1987). The rupture for analysis begins with John Singleton and Boyz n the Hood, the first Black American coming-of-age film to receive its level of critical acclaim and national-cultural reverence (still recognizing the impact and significance of Cooley High on this film and American cinema). The contemporary analog to Singleton’s debut critical acclaim manifests in Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight; Jenkins’ film and this argument find that the interdependency of cultural notions of personhood and kinship necessitates, inter alia, the deconstruction of both manhood and the nuclear family to escape these reworked stereotypes.

Singleton’s Opening Remarks

Visions of domesticity emphasized duty, morality, and cleanliness, and, above all else, they represented the family as a laboring unit. Accordingly, the home is in service of the market, as its proper management stabilizes and induces good habits in the laboring classes. In other words, the discourse on domesticity is primarily geared toward battling moral degradation, sloth, indolence and idleness… aimed at managing the laboring classes and the poor rather than creating a protected sphere outside market relations…

Domestic disorder was held responsible for criminality and a range of other sins, from vanity and consumption of tobacco and liquor to stealing.

Saidiya Hartman, “Scenes of Subjection: Terror, Slavery, and Self-Making in Nineteenth-Century America”

Jenkins’ admission of his idolization of Singleton provides a very interesting lens through which to comparatively analyze their respective debuts (Jenkins 2019), starting with the opening scenes which contrast in very important ways and thus expose the directors’ different registers of intracommunal violence that would define their films. We follow Tre walking to school with friends whereas Little is running from bullies after leaving school, and their use of language (both corporeal and verbal) highlights the deconstruction of stock characters, filmic stereotypes, and visibility politics. David Bogle cites the pickaninny as “the first of the coon types to make its screen debut. It gave the Negro child actor his place in the black pantheon. Generally, he was a harmless little screwball creation whose eyes popped, whose hair stood on end with the least excitement, and whose antics were pleasant and diverting.” (7) Given that this role was the site of admission for the Black child into American cinematic tradition, using it as a foundational lens for analysis allows us to see how both directors attempt to subvert that tradition with Black men whose characters are introduced as children.

Singleton’s subversion is embodied in Tre’s resistance to Whiteness while also being a class clown, in opposition to the “unthreatening and almost childish” coon whose function was to obfuscate and elide racism (Benshoff & Griffin 4). He achieves this characterization by reactively adultifying Tre, who throughout the movie is jokingly judged as too mature in various terms and contexts, many of which involve sex, drugs, and violence. The process for af firming his adult capacities, though, manifests itself in an ableist intellectualism that assumes reason and intellect as the cruces of humanity, and one that (as exemplified in the film and analyzed in the following pages) violently excludes those marginalized on bases of gender, sexuality, and/or (dis)ability even when supposedly corrected for race. So while Tre and Furious are positioned throughout the entire movie as the supremely reasonable and intelligent characters (the former if only conditionally), the incredibly crucial scene of Tre’s walk home from school after a disciplinary infraction bars Reva from ever achieving this status of reason (00:04:28-00:06:05). When Tre fights another Black student, Mrs. Olaf suspends him and calls home to ensure his mother that although his behavior and temperament are unacceptable, “he is highly intelligent and has an enormous vocabulary,” and thus deserving of redemption. What is even more interesting, however, is that his behavior automatically reflects failure on the part of the mother; yet even her job, bachelor’s degree, and pursuant master’s degree fail to atone for her crime. What first appears simply Singleton’s critique on White America’s assignation of the Black woman’s domestic role (mammy) becomes a vehicle for Black men’s assignation of Her role throughout the entire film. What is framed as a struggle over cultivating Black manhood- and supposedly resolved by displacing then erasing the mother- becomes then a dangerously insidious reinforcement of supposed Black degredation and specifically the supposed self-destructiveness of the Black woman (mother), as propagandized by the Moynihan Report, theorized by Spillers’ response, and historically cited by Hartman’s guidequote above.

Jenkins’ Response

I hated my mom too.

Mahershala Ali, Moonlight

Motherhood in Jenkins’ film is complicated by a complex web of interactions: Paula’s drug addiction, not being Little’s only maternal figure, the maternal figures engendering both the central conflict and catharsis of the story, as well as racial capitalism’s further complication of agency (and therefore criminality and culpability). As opposed to Singleton, Jenkins offers no elaboration on the White view of Black domesticity as there are no white characters in the narrative. Rather, the categorical crisis of Little causes introspective debate over the cause of moral degradation in the household: was Paula to blame for his terrible childhood as his biological mother and guardian, or was Juan to blame as her drug dealer and Little’s de facto father, “Juan lowering his eyes, legitimately weighs the question.” (Jenkins 47) Most importantly, Paula asks Juan if he will explain to Little “why the other boys kick his ass all the time.” (00:29:16). Thus, intracommunal violence- and most importantly one’s response to it- is at the center of discourse surrounding a conceptualized Black American manhood (for both films); as a coming-of-age movie, this means that the “climax” and “falling action” present the most translatable grounds for analyzation. 

Rather than interpreting the central conflict as an internal battle with one’s queerness, this argument analyzes the external forces that muddy the waters of agency in such a way that disrupts directional thinking of violence and thus pathologize queerness in such a way that creates an internal conflict where one does not necessarily exist. Three ostensibly “direct” external sites of violence/harm emerge in begetting and supressing the post-climactic catharsis expected of a coming-of-age movie: maternal abuse, homophobic violence by the community at large but specifically by Chiron’s peers, and Juan drug-dealing. The latter is seemingly resolved by Juan’s death, and yet his spectre still impresses Chiron and Paula’s lives, for better and for worse. The last scene with Juan before his unexplained death presents a very important vantage with which to analyze crucial plot developments, and it is also important to highlight here Jenkins’ inversion of Singleton’s spatiotemporal conceptions surrounding the father’s presence (30:47-35:50). By returning to the remaining two external conflicts and earlier mentioned narrative stages- the confrontation of the main character with homophobic conflict (actualizing itself in the “climax”) with Chiron attacking Terrel then going to prison, as well as his confrontation with maternal conflict (the “falling action” or, arguably, the actual “climax”) with his visit to his mother in rehab and their affectual catharsis- we see Juan’s responsibility as a father to “guide his decisions” is clearly fulfilled through Chiron’s use of his advice and resolution with the results.

“Aight, first things first,” before the scene’s main dialogue begins, Juan moves Little to a different chair so his back does not face the door, where he could not “know if someone creepin’ up on [him].” The first and totalizing conflict (homophobia) was confronted with this advice on self-defense that Little a) needs to watch his back and b) “can be gay, but… [he] don’t have to let nobody call [him] a faggot.” Before we know Little’s name, we know he is a “faggot” because of the kids chasing him from school in the opening scene, so naturally the climax presents itself when Chiron retaliates. The entire school knows of the violence Chiron faces at the hands of Terrel and his friends, especially with the entire gang beating him up in the schoolyard the day prior; knowing that turning to the State will not protect him but rather make it worse, as pressing charges against Terrel’s gang will incite more violence upon him by everyone else, he takes matters into his own hands, resulting in his immediate arrest. The film does not display nor deliberate on the specific processes of cognitive and affectual development that allowed Chiron to realize himself and dispel (or rework) the narratives (stereotypes) imposed on him since his childhood: his peers calling him faggot for being gay, his lighskin friend calling him Black for being darkskin, and his mother yelling at him not to look her in the eyes; yet in the third chapter, a still confused yet confident character replaces Little and Chiron as Black: “hard as he is, his mother’s touch an instant pause.”

Back to Juan’s last scene, when he brings up that he saw Paula the night before, Little says that he hates her, sparking Juan to admit that he felt the same way about his mom when he was younger; yet he now not only misses her, but also laments the feelings he had. This tacit advice is clearly carried over in Black’s interaction with his mother at the rehab center where she lives and works (01:16:36-01:21:03). What is so crucial here is not just the catharsis achieved through her heartbreakingly sincere apology for her abuse, but that she is compelled to give it in order to earn his acceptance of her advice, even when it includes getting out the streets. In order to reinstate (if only “one step at a time”) her status as a mother, she has to atone for her crimes in a way that Reva was not even allowed to. Paula not only apologizes but also acknowledges that she did not love Black when he was a child (an obvious requisite of mother/parenthood that Juan and Teresa fulfilled), but also affirms her love for him in the present. Black does not say that he forgives her nor does he need to, for the love exemplified through nonverbal communication- the hug that they had never given each other until now to signify resolution; the tears exchanged that were never shed by anyone in the film except Juan in his final scene- affirms the gradual formation of an actual, healthy relationship between the two. Black moving drugs is a clear correlation between him and Juan, so Paula’s insistence that he quit could have been considered an encroachment on his manhood and Juan’s fatherhood in the way that Singleton disallows any and all motherly input from Reva (including her simply buying Tre a pair of shoes); thankfully Jenkins allows for a less misogynistic view, one that allows her motherhood to coexist with and inform his manhood.

The precedent for this interdependence is actually situated in Juan and Teresa’s household. Even at the dinner table scene that was just analyzed, Juan seeks Teresa’s affirmation when advising Little how to carry himself. After Juan has died, Chiron still comes to see Teresa in search of the motherhood that did not exist at the home he never had; here she also affirms his resemblance of Juan yet in a lighthearted context. The demeanor of that scene quickly switches from an airy shot of the two laughing at a joke about Chiron’s laziness to a solemn closeup of him mourning his father, because Chiron needed him, just as much as he still needed his mother, and just as much as Juan and Teresa needed each other as well (41:58-42:02). Just as Juan opened the door for Little when Paula kicked him out of the house so she could turn a trick in the first chapter, Teresa reminds Chiron in the second chapter, “you know you can stay here anytime you need to,” after Paula does the same thing again. This was a family unit, none of which was built on blood ties but rather the communal responsibility to rear a child.

Singleton’s Conclusion & Jenkins’ Revision

…a budding criminal looking ten year old.

John Singleton, Boyz n the Hood

While the (cap)ability for forgiveness for (especially Black) mothers who supposedly commit the greatest moral sin possible- improper rearing of children- is extended so far as to Paula but not Reva and Sheryl exposes a clear evolution in the depiction of the mammy and crack whore-Welfare Queen stereotypes, a deeper area for comaprative analysis and conlusion (to round the discussion of the misnamed Daughter and ableist intellectualism) lies in Singelton’s depiction of young women and (dis)ability. 

Singleton’s inclusion of female characters in dialogue was always contingent on their proximity to a man or child- whether sexually or maternally- while in Jenkins’ film this is simply a by-product of all the dialogue relating to the main character. The cookout scene celebrating Doughboy’s release from prison provides the perfect springboard for analyzing both this and ableism. Throughout the entire film, but especially at the cookout, there is a purposeful sexual and political tension between the male and female characters that always prioritizes the male gaze: Ricky tongue-kisses his girlfriend, Shanice, in front of his mother after she asks for their baby, then the scene transitions to Doughboy and his friends by way of an extreme close-up of a unknown woman’s butt while she is walking; they argue about how much pussy they get and then pathologize addicts by implying that all (crack-)addicted women have AIDS so they don’t count (even if these are the characters who don’t make it out the hood, the audience was encouraged to find this funny; if not, this line could’ve been left out); the first introduction to Shalisa (Doughboy’s friend), Brandi (Tre’s girlfriend), and the rest of the girls on the block is solely about Shalisa eyeing Brandi’s man; then, when the food is ready, Ms. Baker calls everybody over, prompting the men and women to get into an argument about the men being disrespectful for pushing the women out of the way to eat first, to which Doughboy sarcastically retorts, “Let the ladies eat! Hoes gotta eat too.” (29:41-35:31) 

Even Brandi falls victim to this hypersexualized writing despite Singleton depicting her as different from (better than) the other girls, mainly by way of her attempted celibacy until marriage which Tre violates for the conquest of manhood. This is exposed not by analyzing the violation itself (the sex scene and its provocation), but their big argument (which is about Tre ignoring Brandi because she does not want to have sex with him), during which she says that having sex is mainly for the purpose of having kids, thus fully connecting the desire for an actual married-nuclear-family unit as what supposedly defines her as different (46:30-49:30). However, it also reveals what provides her ticket out of the hood and into Spelman- a destiny Ricky could not live to see- and thus connects the Daughters with the Mothers, but also this Daughter with her Man. Tre is the only boy on the block with a father in the home, as Doughboy points out, which is the most tacit yet dangerous commentary on gender relations in the film. The constant pursuit of a man and/or son by all the women who do not have one or the other implies their dependency on these characters, and yet Jenkins’ portrayal of Paula as an addicted prostitute provided more nuance into the agency and purpose of her actions than Singleton’s would (see Sheryl). While Paula is displayed a terrible drug-addicted, abusive mother, Jenkins’ does not lead us to believe that the presence of men (including Juan) in her life fixes her problems in the way that Singleton would, nor does he disallow growth/evolution because of her addiction. When she is prostituting herself for the same purpose Sheryl does, it is not a castigating portrayal when put in the context of the entire narrative, but rather paints a bigger picture as to the how and why.

The other character lacking critical dimension is Chris. In the same way Jenkins confirmed the influence of Boyz n the Hood on his direction, Singleton confirmed Stand By Me as the influence for his. So, as the fourth member of the ensemble, Chris’ fate should be sealed at the end of the movie either through implication like Ricky’s death or explication like the captions that Doughboy, Tre, and Brandi received. However, it appears Chris is effectively replaced by Brandi because, as a disabled person, the implication is that his life would bear so little fruit that an explanation is not even needed. Given that this is semi-autobiographical, if his character was indeed based off a real person who did in fact suffer a gunshot wound, then this erasure echoes the violent erasure of Phillip Devine from the dramatized Boys Don’t Cry, representing the nexus of antiBlackness and ableism. Furthermore, at the cookout, Doughboy insists “I ain't no criminal. I know how to read, shit.” The characters’ interrogation of Doughboy, Ricky, and Chiron’s literacy and cognitive development despite their clear command of language and apparent cleverness- combined with Tre’s constantly reaffirmed intellect and command of language/higher thought- implies the connection between criminality and intellectual disability. Benshoff and Griffin briefly touch on this in their chapter on whiteness: “One such belief was the assumption that white people were a more evolved type of human being – and thus suited for mental and intellectual tasks – while non-white people were thought of as being more basely physical and even animalistic.” (3) Ricky and Chiron’s grouping with criminality for simply being darkskin and/or gay whereas Doughboy shoplifted and sold drugs accurately, cinematically depicts the coarticulation of criminality and Blackness. However, Singleton falsely arrives at the conclusion that the proper resistance to this violence is to prove otherwise, but still according to the dictates of intellectualism and reason. According to (American) reason, Tre becomes a man when he realizes he must go to college, get a job, get married, then settle down with Brandi, all while disassociating with the community he claims to help. (Why was Furious not at the cookout? Why does he not help out in some way with Sheryl’s kid(s) like Juan did if he got so much money?) 

According to Moonlight- according to the absurdity of (Black) queerness- there is no point at which Chiron can clearly dilineate his manhood from his childhood, nor does he need to, because the beauty of evolution is that continuous growth does not necessarily engender definitive, unambiguous “stages” of growth. With our current epistemological--psychoanalytical segmentation of personal mental capacities over the course of one’s life based on the supposed evolution of one’s reason and intellect until reaching a supposedly “mature” and thus more “fully human” being, there is then an analogous mapping of this segmentation onto supposedly differently evolved (and thus hierarchically evolved because evolution implies progess) mental capacities onto society, designating certain individuals as more or less evolved and thus fully Human than others. While Furious and Juan are presented as the representative mature (fully evolved) Black man within their respective communities, the former’s reasoning and intellectual capacities are never seriously questioned or reflected upon while the latter’s is mainly complicated by his occupation which directly harms the community and his “son.” While Jenkins forces Juan to confront and ultimately suffer for this contradiction, Singleton exalts Furious despite having the resources to help his community and doing nothing. Furthermore, their fatherhoods begin where motherhood failed, but Jenkins’ film allows fatherhood to fail as well; everyone fails according to the unspoken--supposed rules of parenting, even Teresa. There are no politicized gendered-parental relations that hierarchize certain individuals according to their mental fortitude, so whenever Juan or Paula’s parenting is questioned by the other, it is solely based on their actions; when Furious or Reva’s parenting is questioned by the other for reasons other than gender, they are convenient at best. This opens up a more honest discourse on child rearing in an especially socioeconomically degraded state, but also on specifically the “goals” of parenting in ths context: (among many others) yes to get your kid out the hood, but also to maintain a healthy relationship between parent and child. Furious prevents the latter for Reva to save himself and achieve the former goal, a choice that so many Black men make in order to subordinate women. Relinquishing this power- Juan quietly telling Chiron to allow his mother forgiveness for her mistakes, also foreshadowing the need for forgive Juan for his- exposes the instability the politicized Mother/Father and child/Adult--Parent dichotomy of the nuclear family that purports (bio)essentialized differences in mental capacities. Juan and Chiron were both still redefining their manhood while they were adults- specifically with the help of a woman/maternal figure, whether or not a blood-tied motherhood existed- and this negates Singleton’s conception of the fully realized Black man/father. However, the evolution of the conceptualized (Black) man and the idea of the Home/Kin in Moonlight promises new ground for gender and self expression. 

Works Cited

Benshoff, Harry M., and Sean Griffin. “African Americans and American Film” America on Film: Representing Race, Class, Gender, and Sexuality at the Movies. Wiley, 2009.

Benshoff, Harry M., and Sean Griffin. “The Concept of Whiteness and American Film” America on Film: Representing Race, Class, Gender, and Sexuality at the Movies. Wiley, 2009.

Bogle, Donald. Toms, coons, mulattoes, mammies, and bucks: an interpretive history of Blacks in American films. Bloomsbury Academic, 2002

Hartman, Saidiya V. Scenes of Subjection: Terror, Slavery, and Self-Making in Nineteenth-Century America. OUP USA, 1997.

Jenkins, Barry, et al. Moonlight. Edited by Mark Lotto, A24, 2019.

Jenkins, Barry, and Tarrel Alvin McCraney. Moonlight. Roadshow Entertainment, 2019.

Singleton, John, director. Boyz n the Hood. Columbia Pictures, 1991.

Singleton, John. Boyz n the Hood. 1991. https://8flix.com/assets/screenplays/b/tt0101507/Boyz-n-the-Hood-1991-screenplay-by-John-Singleton.pdf   

Spillers, Hortense J. “Mama’s Baby, Papa’s Maybe: An American Grammar Book.” Diacritics, vol. 17, no. 2, 1987, pp. 65–81. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/464747.