Reflection on St. Louis Blues (1929)

A few weeks ago, I watched the 1929 short movie-musical, St. Louis Blues starring Bessie Smith (check out my review, by the way) I was so moved by the film, that I decided to write a reflection on it.

St. Louis Blues on Youtube: Part I/Part II

OVERVIEW
*spoiler alert*


St. Louis Blues centers around "Bessie" a woman in love with a not-so-great gamblin' man named "Jimmy" (according to IMDb, he's a pimp also). Jimmy is cheating on her with another woman (played by the unsung Isabel Washington). When Bessie catches the two in her bedroom, she fights the woman (and an irritated landlord or janitor), but she doesn't fight Jimmy (of course). Instead, she begs Jimmy not to leave her and he answers her pleas with a literal "pimp slap". She's paying for his room and board, yet he's supposed to be a "pimp", but that's not important.

In the "second reel" of the movie, Bessie Smith gives a heartbreaking and soul-stirring performance of W.C. Handy's "St. Louis Blues" with the Hall Johnson Choir. When she finishes her song, Jimmy returns to her. They dance together in the middle of the speakeasy dance floor. Bessie is delighted that Jimmy loves her and has returned. However, Jimmy has only returned for money. He sneakily takes money her money, then violently pushes her away and exits with a smug look on his face. 

The patrons do nothing more than stop and gasp and the bartender does nothing more than shake his head out of pity. I don't know what kind of message the creators of this film were trying to relay, but I know what I got out of it--a painful reminder of how much black women endure and the little respect and love we get as human beings. No one bothered to console Bessie. No one bothered to fight Jimmy. This movie is almost 85 years old and I still found that moment to be resonating.

REFLECTION

This moment made me think about an episode of What Would You Do? (that I cannot find, unfortunately) when people immediately intervened when a white actor "verbally abused" his white "significant other", but when a black actor "verbally abused" his black "significant other"--most bystanders kept it moving. One of them actually called the police to say something along the lines of "these people are causing a disturbance". You know, not "a woman is being verbally abused out here, I'm scared her boyfriend/husband might hit her." 

I thought about Whitney Houston bathtub "jokes". Aaliyah airplane "jokes" (would you believe me if I told you that a black feminist I USE to follow actually retweeted a "joke" about Aaliyah being barbecued?). I thought about Lefteye car crash "jokes". Although she wasn't a black woman, I also thought about Howard Stern playing gunshots over Selena's music after she passed away. Are our lives really that meaningless?



I thought about how the abuse that Tina Turner suffered is now a punchline in many-a television shows, movies, and songs. How Rihanna's battered face is practically a meme now.


I thought about how this:

Is supposed to be "funny". 

*update: 3/21/2014*

Apparently, this was supposed to be "funny" too.

My exact reaction. (Not my gif; obtained from Tumblr)

I thought about tweets like "How do y'all know Harriet Tubman wasn't ho, though?" being made after that God awful Harriet Tubman "sextape" comedy video. I thought about the many people who refer to Sally Hemings as Jefferson's "whore" or "bed wench", as though she actually had power and control over body. Not even just Sally Hemings, our many ancestors who were victims of rape, but were/are called "mistresses" and "bed wenches" like...like, any and all sexual relations between white slave masters and enslaved black women was consensual. They weren't mistresses. They weren't bed wenches. They weren't whores. They were RAPE VICTIMS. 

I thought about the young black girls who are slaughtered on social networking sites when someone they once loved and trusted leaks a photo or video of them performing sexual acts. 

I thought about how Carmen Jones (well, Carmen, really) had her death coming to her. How Chick (from Hallelujah!) also had hers coming. How it was only inevitable/karma for Judith (in Temptation) to end up ragged, alone, and with HIV because she dared to look for something more outside of a lackluster marriage (I'm not condoning cheating, but I get this strange feeling that if it were the other way around, Judith would have stuck with Brice because that's what black Christian women/wives are supposed to do, right?). 

************

While I was inspired and moved by this movie and its performances, I was also left feeling a little hurt. A little less confident in who I am. I suddenly felt unprotected. Then, I also realized that I'm not fat like the woman in the "choke hold" photo above or dark like the women who are disrespected and insulted DAILY on social networking sites--and these women have it worse off than I do. St. Louis Blues was released eighty-five years ago. Eight DECADES ago--and Bessie's public and ignored abuse still feels like something I've seen before in my 90s, 00s, and 10s life.

 But, as the quote goes "Without struggle, there is no progress." This short film just might have been what I needed to keep me motivated and to help me build a bigger, stronger, and louder voice.