The tough stuff brought on by Selma

Rather than watch Tom Brady toss a deflated football around on Sunday night, Wheat and I did something a little more meaningful with our time and saw Selma. Side note: Don't let me fool you into thinking we're better than the NFL. We hate both the Patriots and the Colts and wanted to take advantage of an empty theater.

The movie itself, despite its recent Oscar nomination snubs, was excellent. The acting was strong, the story was heartbreaking, and it didn't shy away from the unsavory aspects of Dr. King's life (ex. his extramarital affairs) or the internal battle that raged within the Civil Rights movement (ex. the debate over a violent or nonviolent approach, the friction between the SCLC and SNCC, etc.). It also prompted an hour-long discussion on the state of race relations today and what it was like for Wheat growing up in the South. I'm always fascinated to hear how complicated histories are taught to the descendants of the perpetrators. For instance, how are modern German students taught about the Holocaust? How did Wheat learn about the painful history of Alabama while living in Birmingham? I'm equally interested in this topic because most of the southerners I know are fiercely proud of their heritage, despite the knowledge of the atrocities that occurred on the very soil they love.

Of course, that's not to say that descendants of Southern plantation owners or the racists who opposed desegregation aren't equally as horrified by those pages of history. Unfortunately, that's also not to say that those whose ancestors hail from north of the Mason-Dixon line weren't (and still aren't) racist.

As you know, this is still a very sensitive subject.

According to Wheat, growing up in the American South was a uniquely complicated experience. He said that the Civil Rights battles of the 1960s were taught in approximately the same way they were in my little Ohio hometown with minimal skirting around the harsh truths. He did mention, however, that the Civil War is taught a little differently...with slightly less focus put on slavery as the primary cause of the war. Considering that a large percentage of the Southern population is actually African-American, he said that these topics are, for the most part, approached delicately, but honestly.

While growing up, he said that the rich, albeit painful history of the area was almost tangible. Field trips were taken to Birmingham's Sixteenth St. Baptist Church (the site of a bombing that killed four young girls in 1963) and Atlanta's King Center. Despite the painful reminders of the difficult past and the frequent race-related battles still being waged across the country (I wouldn't call Ferguson, Missouri; Sanford, Florida; or Staten Island, New York the traditional "South"), Wheat said that those in the South, both white and black, share a unique bond, forged together by the events that preceded them and a cultural common ground. Specifically, he mentioned sports and music as a source of shared pride, citing Alabama football and the Memphis Grizzlies as primary examples.

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I'm also heartbroken by how events portrayed in the movie still apply today. I don't even mean in the literal sense of white police officers violently beating or killing black citizens. I'm referring to things much simpler, but much more reflective of the big picture.

January box office records are currently being shattered by American Sniper, a movie that chronicles the career of Navy SEAL Chris Kyle, the most lethal sniper in American history. While his service and sacrifice are unquestionably admirable (and worthy of a blockbuster movie), it is also important to temper that admiration with the knowledge of Kyle's well-publicized, anti-Muslim sentiments. The Academy has chosen to (rightfully) recognize Bradley Cooper's performance as Kyle, but did not nominate David Oyelowo for his portrayal of Dr. King, which is perfectly fine. But merely one year after praising the impressive performances in 12 Years a Slave, the Academy failed to make any kind of real progress when it decided not to nominate Ava DuVernay for Best Director (Selma). She would have become the first African-American woman nominated for the honor.

And yes, I realize that the Academy Awards aren't meant to pave the way for social change and should be awarded to the best body of work or performance, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, etc. I just can't help but notice the glaring omissions and hypocrisies.

It's not lost on me how sheltered I am.

I walked away from Selma, citing it as an inspirational think piece, completely oblivious to the violence happening in "the bad part of town," a mere three miles away from the comforts of my apartment. However, as easy as it would be for a privileged white girl from Ohio to see Selma and call it 'events of the past,' I know better than to do that. The battle for racial (and gender) equality wages on today...and that's as evident on the streets of Ferguson as it is in the announcement of the Oscar nominations.