The 2008 election of Barack Obama ushered in a rash of declarations about the dawn of a post-racial America. But by the time he took the oath of office, it was already becoming clear to many African-Americans that Obama’s presidency was giving some white people a new conduit to express deep-seated prejudices they had previously only dared utter in private.
Black Americans often found themselves blindsided by the reality that one of their own had ascended to the most powerful perch in the world, and yet he would be forced to endure the same indignities that people of color had been subjected to for generations.
The critically acclaimed new satire, “Dear White People”, which opened on Friday, at its best tries to capture this new normal when it comes to race. The racial anxieties of the Obama era are given ample screen time, and the film tackles an age-old question that has been at the center of black narratives from W.E.B. DuBois’ “The Souls of Black Folk” to Barack Obama’s best-selling memoir “Dreams From My Father”: where do African-Americans belong within the social fabric of this country?
The film’s 31-year-old writer-director, Justin Simien, said during a panel discussion at New York City’s SoHo Apple Store on Wednesday that he was attempting to portray a black experience that “was nowhere to be found in cinema.” His goal was to simulate what it feels like to be a “black person in a predominately white space … what being a person of color looks like now.” Drawing inspiration from films as diverse as “Network” and “School Daze”, Simien is swinging for the fences with this movie. Does he hit a home run? No, but it’s a solid single.
“Dear White People” takes place at a fictional Ivy League school called Winchester University. The racial and social groups on campus are clearly defined from the very beginning, with a well-edited opening montage that introduces the main characters through mocking title cards – the movie nails millennials’ insistence on categorizing everything and everyone. Racial tensions at the school are already hot and the temperature’s rising, thanks to a provocative radio broadcast, which shares the movie’s title, led by the leading black radical on campus, Samantha White (played by Tessa Thompson).
Samantha uses her show as a cudgel, ridiculing whites for appropriating black culture or simply not respecting it. Her racial put-downs (for instance, she calls dating a black man to infuriate your parents a “form of racism”) ignite a campus-wide competition involving elite “houses” which conspire to get the best of each other in an exaggerated turf war.
Samantha is “like Spike Lee and Oprah Winfrey had some pissed off baby,” according to her white peers, and she revels in her combative posture, even making a film called “Rebirth of a Nation” featuring white people in whiter face reacting hysterically to Obama’s two presidential victories. She is “Dear White People”’s ostensible lead, but the most compelling figure is actually a socially awkward gay black student writer named Lionel, played by “Everybody Hates Chris” veteran, Tyler James Williams.
Lionel suffers from not being “black enough for the black kids or being black enough for the white ones.” He listens to Mumford & Sons and appreciates Robert Altman movies and yet his copious Afro is an endless curiosity for his condescending white friends.
Williams’s performance and character are the film’s strongest because they feel the realest, and therefore, the most relevant. The figure of Lionel taps into our country’s evolving concepts of racial identity, which have blurred and become more nuanced since a “skinny kid with a funny name” was elected Commander-in-Chief.
This changing racial landscape comes with a great deal of fear and apprehension. It’s therefore no surprise that so-called “black films” rarely venture into modern territory for this very reason. The most popular mainstream Hollywood films about race are almost always set in the past. In films like “The Butler” for instance, the good guys and bad guys are very clearly delineated and the events portrayed are so far removed from our current climate, that they can be viewed from a safe, cozy distance.








