To Be: The Imagination of Black Boyhood
It’s about time we zoom in on what is happening at the beginning to understand the middle and the now.
“….Black boyhood should inspire inquiry that asks young Black boys who they are, what they think, and what they desire in their lives now.”
This past weekend, I came across a movie titled We Grown Now on Netflix. I’d seen a flyer for the movie somewhere and made a mental note to view it when I had a chance. Upon reading the synopsis, I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to invest my emotions in another tragic movie about black children: In 1992, best friends Malik and Eric traverse the city of Chicago, looking to escape the mundaneness of school and the hardships of growing up in public housing. They soon find their unbreakable bond challenged when a tragedy shakes their community. I lived through so much tragedy in Chicago during the 90s, and I didn’t want to overwhelm myself, but despite my trepidations, I watched it anyway. (I’m a Pisces who loves to feel *shrug*).
In We Grown Now, Malik(Black Cameron James) and Eric(Gian Knight Ramirez) give one of the most compelling and realistic displays of the vulnerable nature of Black boyhood growing up in an environment riddled with violence and uncertainty. What I know for sure about the Chicago housing projects during the 90s and early aughts, beyond just Cabrini Green, was that people were dying there nearly every week. It became commonplace for stories of shootings, elevator deaths, kids being thrown from the buildings, and the social position of fear to spread across the city. I was apprehensive about being anywhere near any of the projects even as an adult. The tragedy that occurs in the movie isn’t witnessed directly, though, but its effects reverberate through conversation and quiet contemplation. Before the tragedy occurs, we are privy to the growing friendship between Malik and Eric, which involve their blooming desire to fly by way of mattress flipping.
Their commitment to this activity is first realized in the opening scene where they heave a large mattress down 10 flights of stairs when they realize the elevator is broken. This mattress becomes symbolic of their connection to dreaming as well. When they are not flipping on the mattress, they are laying on it dreaming of the future and imagining a universe beyond their circumstances. This occupation of world-building through dreaming is often not afforded to young black boys, but Malik insists that Eric join him in conjuring up a world by staring at a water stain in the corner of a room long enough to allow it to become whatever he wants.
The contrast between Malik, who is curious and imaginative, and Eric, who is tense and grounded, offers a spectrum of variance that debunks known stereotypes. Despite these two being different in temperament, their friendship offers each other a place to land and be free. In a moment where the camera catches them hollering through a wired gate, “I exist! I exist!” we are brought closer to their internal worlds that are full of hope and visibility.
The above opening quote comes from an article titled, “(Re)Imagining Black Boyhood: Toward a Critical Framework for Educational Research” by researchers/educators Micahel J. Dumas and Joseph Derrick Nelson. In this article, Dumas and Nelson attack the ways Black boys are “unimagined and unimaginable” leading to no moral or emotional recognition of them as children, in turn stripping them of a childhood. Dumas and Nelson also position how the narrow view of masculinity moves Black boys (and men) away from “agential subjectivity”. When Black boys are denied agential subjectivity, they are often not seen as autonomous individuals with the ability to define themselves and navigate the world on their own terms. Instead, their identity and agency are frequently shaped by external forces such as stereotypes, racism, and systemic discrimination. After reading “(Re)imaging Black Boyhood,” I went down a burrow for more scholarship and articles that had Black boyhood –particularly Black American boyhood– at its core.
The Google search [Black American boyhood] brought up an abundance of articles involving “Black boy joy”, stories celebrating Black boyhood, a book review for James Earl Thomas’ memoir titled “Sink”, and Google AI’s overview of Black boyhood as “a social experience that includes the joys, struggles, and challenges of growing up as a Black boy in America. It can be explored through books, television, and other media.”
That last line from the AI overview gave me pause. Granted, artificial intelligence utilizes numerous sources to come to conclusions about any subject; however, this definition shows that the comprehension of Black boyhood depends on media portrayals rather than real-life experiences. This illustrates the inability to engage with Black boys beyond what is on a screen or in a book, thus never experiencing them as actual human beings with bodies that exist in the real world.
This calls into question the difference between reputation and reality of Black boyhood. There is no doubt that reality is far more nuanced and diverse, but I find, as does the scholarship and research by Dumas and Nelson, that the reputation of Black boys leads the charge. The reality of being a Black boy involves navigating the complexity of individual identity, societal expectations, and often dealing with challenges tied to race over gender, which is not confined to the narrow box that reputation often creates.
I don’t purport to have any answers for the fragile social conception of Black boyhood. I also do not think less portrayals of Black boyhood in the media is needed. Watching We Grown Now has unearthed something in me in relation to what I understand about Black boyhood, and in turn, Black girlhood. I aim to continue reading and understanding and engaging (in real life, literarily, and cinematically).
While taking a small break from writing this, I came across Black Age: Oceanic Lifespans and the Time of Black Life by Habiba Ibrahim on my bookshelf. In the closing chapter titled, Epilogue: And with Black Children, Ibrahim says, “Age is a constitutive aspect of black embodiment, subjectivity, and experiences of time.” It’s about time we zoom in on what is happening at the beginning to understand the middle and the now.