While children my age were watching shows like Eureeka’s Castle, Barney & Friends, and Lamb Chop, I had a curiosity for crime dramas. Children’s programming was cool, but I followed the intriguing cases in Murder She Wrote and Matlock. Yes, at age 4 I was using words like “evidence” and “DNA” in my vocabulary. Don’t judge my childcare provider. My babysitter was not about to miss her “program” on account of a kid being around. We religiously watched television together, it’s how she taught me to tell time. When Matlock aired, that’s how I knew it was noon and exactly 60 minutes had passed when it was over.

Things got so very real at 1:00 p.m.

intheheatofthenight

When I saw the flashing lights on the screen and heard a man singing like he was working on the chain gang during a hot summer day in the 1940’s, pleading for a glass of ice water to cool off, I knew it was 1:00 p.m. and In the Heat of the Night was coming on.

Sparta, Mississippi had its fair share of murder, corruption, burglary and racism, wrangled by the town’s toughest police officers. Detective Virgil Tibbs (Howard E. Rollins) and police chief Bill Gillespie (Carroll O’Connor), truly worked in black and white to solve small town criminal cases while maintaining a state of normalcy for a town frequently divided. It was a man’s game. With only three women on the force — one of them was killed in the line of duty — hearing a woman’s perspective on the law only came in small doses. Aside from Harriet DeLong (Denise Nicholas), Sparta’s only Black councilwoman, who did more nagging throughout her character’s run on the show before we could see true depth, women had little to no say in this fictional justice system.

In the late 1980’s and early ’90s, times were changing from the days women rarely spoke out against men on TV, let alone in real life. You can thank Anita Hill for courageously taking a stand against workplace sexual harassment, making it less challenging for more women to come forward. But even at a young age, I noticed women, especially Black women were primarily portrayed in domestic roles, only vocal in trivial and family issues. In 1989, A Different World skimmed the surface of date rape, using its 30 minute format to tackle as much as possible on the issue. And in that same year during the fall, In the Heat of the Night would go a bit deeper.

Next Up: Althea Tibbs

Photo: YouTube screenshot
Photo: YouTube screenshot

Before her comedic days as Raven Baxter’s boss on That’s So Raven, Joan’s attorney rival on Girlfriends or in the final season of In Living Color, Anne-Marie Johnson is most notably remembered as Althea Tibbs, the high school teacher and wife to Virgil. Mrs. Tibbs served as Virgil’s voice of reason, a counselor to students or just another uppity northerner to the white residents, who were stuck in some sort of Jim Crow time warp. She was just another woman with very little contribution in season one. In the show’s third season, we begin to dive deeper into Althea and Virgil’s relationship, which would be ultimately tested when Althea is raped by a colleague. He is white, and angry about Althea exercising her authority over his work as the school’s music teacher. To prove his idea of where the control should rest, he ambushes Althea ultimately raping her in her own home.

A moving performance, as a victim wondering what provoked an attacker. Johnson perfectly embodied the fear and shame often accompanied with sexual assault, giving an all too real feel to her fragile moments. As the district attorney, Virgil and chief Gillespie openly discuss the difficulties of arguing rape in court and how new DNA testing wouldn’t work in her favor, the audience quickly realizes how victims are disregarded in the legal process. It boiled down to either winning or losing the case in court, not the case of Althea’s well-being. The most cringeworthy scene is where the DA says, “The evidence kit only proves Mrs. Tibbs had sex with somebody.” As she sits there, obviously uncomfortable, having to relive the horrifying tale, Mrs. Tibbs quickly realizes decisions about her body shouldn’t be left up to a man, especially the one who violated her.

“I think you don’t need me here. I think the three zippers in this room and all the zippers in all the courtrooms everywhere are making decisions for me about my experience. My choices. My future. My justice. But hey, boys will be boys.”

As the scene progresses, Althea’s breaking point surfaces as she grasps the idea that her attacker may go free, while she remains in limbo unsure of whether he left behind a sexually transmitted disease. The only emotion her husband can process is anger, not the empathy Althea knows he’ll never experience. Althea did not whimper, she fought back both verbally and physically, like a true badass.

In 2016, American Crime is extensively exploring the topic of rape, now from the perspective of a male. This is monumental and long overdue. As painful as it can be to watch, these narratives are necessary just as the case of Althea Tibbs. It happens far too frequently, but justice served less. Rape is often categorized as an exercise of power and authority more than it is a sexual assault. Althea’s power was temporarily restrained, but she so very quickly got it back. Almost 30 years later, women have more space to come forward with similar stories, which is only the first of many steps to take in the road to justice. But there is still a struggle for power, both physically and mentally. In a world where far too many Daniel Holtzclaw’s roam the streets while Sandra Blands are silenced, it is crucial for Black women to freely exercise their rights and have accessibility to resources as rape survivors. We were built to be conquerors and deserve the clearance to fight back just as any other woman.

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