Session 2 | Assignment 1 |  Making the unseen visible | How film exposes hidden labor and systemic inequality

Historically, those who seek to maintain and increase their power and riches invest in crafting a narrative that denounces the humanity of those whose very existence may poses a threat to their narrative. We hear white supremacists say horrible, racist things to demean their targets, we hear misogynists turn a deaf ear to SA victim testimonies for "lack of proof", and those who protest injustice and brutality are quickly condemned as "domestic terrorists", etc. The growing counter-attacks increase the likelihood that those whose very existence challenges the dominant narrative will be tempted to keep their stories hidden or ignored as a matter of survival and self-protection. I think being courageous requires "reading the world", and knowing when it is time for skillful acts of resistance~ like breaking the silence of fear and stigma, like pointing out that the 'emporer has no clothes'.

Hello, I tried to join the Zoom for tonight's class~ the message says the class is tomorrow. Does anyone know what's correct? I'm assuming it's tomorrow, but I'd hate to miss it if I'm just having trouble getting in! ~Linda

I have come to understand that whoever holds the mic establishes the narrative. Historically, those who establish the narrative most often seek financial gain, power, and control to dominate a society. They have not only sought to hold the microphone but also to suppress anyone who has the opportunity to broadcast their voice and resistance. But some manage to create their own sound system to spark revolution, resistance, and rightful agency.

Watching this incredible and courageous art of storytelling through the documentary The Cost of Cotton allowed me to reflect on my own historical experience, where storytelling was paramount and pivotal in my internal consideration.

When Alex Hayley's Roots appeared on television in 1977, I was ten years old. I was in shock when I realized the story was based on his ancestral journey. I was devastated when I came to fully understand that his story was a part of my family's history and many other Blacks living in America, South America, the Caribbean Islands–all over the world. 

While I understood that the film was a revealing tale for most Black people living in the United States and abroad, I did not fully grasp how revolutionary that moment was. I did not understand the courage it required to do the research, write the story, publish the story, wrestle with his family history–the pain, the torture, their resilience, financing the film, curate an all star cast of celebrated actors both Black, white and other ethinic groups to work alongside him and each other, in a film that is in direct conflict with every singular celebrated story of our patriotism to this country.

I grew up in Boston, in a highly patriotic city where you can still visit the gravesites of the British founders who resettled the land, historic churches, ships, and buildings erected in their names. 

A few years later, in 8th-grade history class, my British professor was teaching us about the Pilgrims and the discovery of the Americas by Christopher Columbus. Then she took a deep breath, wrestled in the glimpse of an eye, and I saw it, a resolute change. She turned on her heels in her brown pumps, neatly fit tan sweater, a brown pencil skirt, accompanied by a delicate silk necktie scarf, walked to the classroom door, and closed it. She turned and walked back to the center of the classroom, gently pulling down her sweater to align it so it sat just below her skirt's waistband. 

She said, " Everything in our history books is not accurate. Then, they asked us to state some of the street names around us. Names sounded across the room: Ponkapoag Trail, Neponset, the list was long. She said, " Are these British names? 

Then, after a deep, conflicted but resolute breath, she released, "I am not supposed to tell you this." "Christopher Columbus did not discover these lands…", you can surmise the rest.

There is a cost for keeping silent, and there is a cost for speaking the truth. I am not sure of all of the ramifications Alex Haley faced. While I know many Black and non-Blacks celebrated him, I know he faced persecution. You can not tell that story, an act of resistance, without being persecuted, especially during that period of time.

For my professor, the injustice was swift. She dared to take a stand against revisionist history, and the price was high—the next day, a substitute teacher. Someone in class told on her, and she was immediately terminated from her job. To this day, she was the best history teacher I ever had. She was not only courageous but also knew how to tell the story in a way that kept us from falling into that nonchalant, nauseating, depleting sleep in history class. What a price she paid to give rise to her voice in resistance to the rhetoric.

Those who hold the microphone have a power of influence; One that can control people or liberate them. 

@luisarguetaa@gmail.com I am curious about the writing prompt for session 2: emotional core, representation, consent and empathy. I would like to understand how your participants gained your trust. How did you gain their consent. Were they afraid, what were their key factors in their decision to participate in the film. Do you have a specific process you engage with each person? Clearly, you possess a beautiful empathy and passion, care toward their well being. Was that what resonated most for them?