Saw this earlier today. It's the semi-true story of three black, female mathematicians who worked at NASA when the US was first getting its space program together (and segregation was still in full swing). Good movie, although it very faithfully hits all the usual beats for an inspirational underdog story, and I wish the science/math had been a little beefier. But I had two main thoughts while watching the movie.
Thought one: There are several scenes in the movie where white men do something to combat the institutionalized (and sometimes personal) discrimination of the era, and the music swells and it's all heroic. I don't fault the movie for playing up this stuff, but I feel like that has to be infuriating in real life. That when the people who benefit from oppression stop oppressing for a moment, they're seen as heroic and selfless and all that jazz. Yet when the oppressed are fighting against oppression, most of the time they are seen as troublemakers. Progress doesn't come until white people stop being racists, and then we praise ourselves for that. This reminds me of something Chris Rock has said:
And yet, it's hard to think of how it might work any other way, because it is ultimately up to the people in charge to bring about change, and since we're still mostly in charge, we're going to frame it the way we want to. MLK is seen as a hero of the Civil Rights movement now, but that wasn't always the case, especially not when he was alive. He was assassinated, after all.
Thought two: I've been thinking about this a lot recently, throughout my astronomy education and especially since Vera Rubin's death, but the movie does a good job of showing how exhausting it is to be an oppressed minority doing a job society doesn't really want you to do. We see a little bit of the main-ish character's childhood, when it was her dream to be a mathematician. And that was her dream: to be a mathematician. But when she grows up, she's instead forced to be a black, female mathematician. The characters in the film all have to fight to get access, education, and recognition in a way that white men don't. And even after they have gotten the recognition they deserve, they then feel it's their duty to make sure future generations of minorities don't have to work quite so hard.
I see this even today. Essentially every woman astronomer I know or have heard of plays double duty: doing astronomy, and fighting for women in astronomy. That wasn't their dream growing up. They just wanted to be astronomers. But they feel as if they can't be just that, as if they have a duty also to work for women in their field. And that just has to be so exhausting and unfair. I'm glad my disadvantage--mental illness--is something I can basically hide from people if I want to. And even though I can do that, I still sometimes feel the urge, the responsibility, to talk about it and write about it in a way that I hope can change minds. I don't, in part because I wouldn't want to get drawn into my life being about that, but I do feel the urge.
Final thought: I saw this movie at 10:30 am on a Friday, so there were only about 25 people in the theater, but I was the only white guy there. (There was one white woman.) Hmm.
Thought one: There are several scenes in the movie where white men do something to combat the institutionalized (and sometimes personal) discrimination of the era, and the music swells and it's all heroic. I don't fault the movie for playing up this stuff, but I feel like that has to be infuriating in real life. That when the people who benefit from oppression stop oppressing for a moment, they're seen as heroic and selfless and all that jazz. Yet when the oppressed are fighting against oppression, most of the time they are seen as troublemakers. Progress doesn't come until white people stop being racists, and then we praise ourselves for that. This reminds me of something Chris Rock has said:
Originally posted by Chris Rock
Thought two: I've been thinking about this a lot recently, throughout my astronomy education and especially since Vera Rubin's death, but the movie does a good job of showing how exhausting it is to be an oppressed minority doing a job society doesn't really want you to do. We see a little bit of the main-ish character's childhood, when it was her dream to be a mathematician. And that was her dream: to be a mathematician. But when she grows up, she's instead forced to be a black, female mathematician. The characters in the film all have to fight to get access, education, and recognition in a way that white men don't. And even after they have gotten the recognition they deserve, they then feel it's their duty to make sure future generations of minorities don't have to work quite so hard.
I see this even today. Essentially every woman astronomer I know or have heard of plays double duty: doing astronomy, and fighting for women in astronomy. That wasn't their dream growing up. They just wanted to be astronomers. But they feel as if they can't be just that, as if they have a duty also to work for women in their field. And that just has to be so exhausting and unfair. I'm glad my disadvantage--mental illness--is something I can basically hide from people if I want to. And even though I can do that, I still sometimes feel the urge, the responsibility, to talk about it and write about it in a way that I hope can change minds. I don't, in part because I wouldn't want to get drawn into my life being about that, but I do feel the urge.
Final thought: I saw this movie at 10:30 am on a Friday, so there were only about 25 people in the theater, but I was the only white guy there. (There was one white woman.) Hmm.
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