OF DENZEL & VIOLA'S 'FENCES' AND MY CHILDHOOD NOSTALGIA

Fences, to secure or to restrict. As black social media erupts in excitement over Viola Davis and Denzel Washington's jerking performance in the Trailer of August Wilson's 'Fences', I'm left filled with questions. Questions of my own unique negro upbringing. Of my own fences. With 'woke' eyes and our intellectual brain stems charged, we're made more conscious of the time we're currently existing in as black folk. It's a thing I've always said that for Jamaicans of black African heritage living in Jamaica, the matter of race is an 'on TV phenom' from which we're consciously far removed. We're more verse in the matters of class than direct race where i'm from. Our police men are black, so are our soldiers and the majority of our civil servants. There are no riots or blockades inspired by racial injustice but by lack of things like water and electricity. We're basic. But through the insurmountable content being presented to us on racial violence and general injustice in the world on social and traditional media, We're slowly realizing that their cry is our cry because their skin, their blood, their early history is our skin, blood and history.

What the 'Fences' trailer woke in me is the painful nostalgia of growing up black. Laughable memories aside, I resonate with having a father like the one Denzel plays in this film. The teaser began with a simple question posed  'Hey pop can I ask you a question, how come you ain't never liked me', to which came the response 'I don't have to like you'. While I can appreciate the raw and unspoiled honesty in the response, I can't help but mindfully transport myself to my childhood and remember how many times I asked myself the same question. Does mommy like me, like really actually like me. Do I like her?

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jj-ZYPVRQbc&w=854&h=480]

See, I come from that Jamaican family where we don't hug each other, nor say I love you when we're alive. But as soon as one of us die we're so ready to hug cold corpses and let go essay type eulogies packed with emotion and affection.  A tek bad sinting make joke but that's funny. In -dare I say- most black families even our women are masculine creatures with a teaspoon of open affection to give. I think that's alot of what's wrong with our progress as people of potential. But I'm curious, so I dare you to ask yourselves; 'Does my parents, my family, my friends.... really like me?' If you can say yes in the comments, then big up you. Fences seems to be hitting home with a lot of people since it's premier, clearly myself included. Expect a full review when the full film debuts... or not.

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