I sat through this movie that claimed to tell our story—as Black women. And instead, it reopened wounds that are already struggling to heal.
Yes, I know some folks felt seen.
Yes, I know the cycle of poverty, trauma, and survival needs to be told.
But what happens when the telling hurts the people it's supposed to represent?
Mr. Perry, sir...
Who was this movie for?
Because I walked away feeling raw.
Confused.
Frustrated.
Hurt.
Taraji acted her entire face off. That’s not the question.
The question is:
Why do we keep getting served trauma with no balm? Pain with no payoff?
Sometimes art just misfires.
This one did for me.
And I’m open—maybe there’s something I missed.
Maybe there’s a perspective I didn’t catch.
But whew. That was heavy in all the wrong ways.
If you saw it, let me know:
Did it land for you? Or did it just leave another scar?
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