As a black person in America, there are certain things you begin to notice when you talk to white folks about entertainment. You notice that there are movies you considered classics that white people have never seen. There are actors you consider legends that white people have never heard of. And then of course you notice the movies that have black actors yet seem to transcend this dichotomy.
But this distinction isn't at all esoteric. Black films that don’t cross over to the mainstream usually have a predominantly black cast, and they tell complex, funny and sometimes misguided stories about violence, love, family and how blackness and womanhood interact. These usually star actors white folks couldn't pick out of lineup, but black folks could recognize from a mile away. Films with black actors that do cross into the mainstream either only have one notable black actor or a predominately black cast but is about a slave narrative or a historical figure. And though it may not be discussed or mentioned explicitly, black folks know the difference immediately. We know the difference between Kevin Hart in Think Like A Man and Kevin Hart in Get Hard. We know the difference between Waiting to Exhale and The Help. We know the difference between Viola Davis and Loretta Devine. We know which of our stories get attention outside of selves.
When I first saw the trailer for Girl’s Trip, I was entirely convinced it was going to fall in the category of films I wouldn’t bother bringing up to anyone who wasn’t black, to avoid ignominious blank stares. So after seeing it, it’s success has genuinely surprised me. Not because of it’s quality but because of it’s content. Girl’s Trip is black af. It’s hilarious and genuine and heartfelt and it’s also unabashedly black. Queen Latifah, Jada Pinkett Smith, Tiffany Haddish and Regina Hall respectively represent the complexity of black womanhood and the different ways that black women can exist. And even when the dialogue sometimes falls flat and it feels a little cliche, the overarching authenticity is intense, riveting and for me, even surprisingly emotional.
But the anomaly of Girl’s Trip isn’t how funny and poignant it is. It’s impossible not to notice every line Tiffany Haddish brilliantly delivered. And the vitality of the AAVE conversation Regina Hall’s character had with Kate Walsh’s is resounding. But the anomaly is about who’s seeing it. Similar to Moonlight, the fact that Girl’s Trip essentially crossed over into mainstream attention, without meeting the quota for black mainstream movies, grants the kind of validation I wish I didn’t need from everyone else. It’s the kind of validation that makes me feel like I wasn’t crazy for thinking that our stories, stories about black femininity and friendship, matter. We don’t need to be heroes, or scientists, and we don’t need to be martyrs, or slaves for our lives to valuable. Sometimes, all we need to do is exist. Loudly, unapologetically and authentically exist.
