deerstalker
Warning: MAJOR spoilers for the podcast Alice Isn’t Dead. Seriously, if you aren’t caught up on this amazing series I suggest you wait.
So I’m on my way home from work and fighting tears as Keisha (who has just found out that the organization she thought was protecting her from bloodthirsty serial killers is actually all a ruse by the US government), desperately attempts to escape Watcher (who insists on psychologically mangling Keisha before physically doing so), when all of a sudden I realize it: I don’t want Alice and Keisha to get back together.
Don’t get me wrong, it feels like a bizarre conclusion to come to after two seasons of a show literally named for the protagonist’s last shred of hope through a dismal existence plagued by mysterious monstrous beings and inexplicable occurrences. In fact, I’m such a fan of this series that this isn’t even the first time I’ve written about how inspiring listening to another queer (very probably Black) woman struggle with and survive mental illness, heartbreak, and loneliness can be. And yet, here we are at another season finale with Alice ex machina busting in to the rescue and something feels… wrong.
Image by Tumblr user cathartes–aura
The realization starts with the nagging question that the episode gets its title from: Why am I still alive? At first, Keisha thinks it must be because there is a role Bay and Creek has chosen for her (very similar to the role Alice’s disappearance forced her into). Then Watcher coerces her into thinking it’s simply an accident that has been allowed by her killer’s own whims. Then finally it seems to be because Keisha herself fights back and refuses to submit to the will imposed on her by others. Except this moment never gets to happen, not really. The answer becomes Alice the moment she steps in and it feels like an insultingly easy conclusion to Keisha’s character arc.
Maybe it’s because I went through my own painful break-up of sorts recently that Alice seems so undeserving of this spotlight. To be clear, I was the Alice. I made a choice that I thought was in everyone’s best interest but instead hurt people very dear to me because it turned out to be selfish and self-serving. Alice is no different. While the truth may be that at the beginning of the series Keisha simply didn’t have the capacity that she does now to comprehend (much less survive) the terror and slaughter brought about by the Thistle Men, Alice still chose to sacrifice the relationship she promised a lifetime commitment to without the input of her partner. Even if Alice thought she was protecting her wife, she chose to undertake two responsibilities that she had to know were incompatible regardless of which came first. It hardly seems fair for Keisha to endure all of this emotional trauma only for Alice to swoop in and acquire her dependency all over again without really earning it. “I was wrong, I’m sorry,” Alice pleads weakly at the end of the episode. “Will you come with me?” As if, given the fatal circumstances, Keisha has a choice.
Actress Jasika Nicole plays Keisha on Alice Isn’t Dead and Dana Cardinal on Night Vale Presents’ original podcast, Welcome to Night Vale. Image ©2012 Fox Broadcasting Co. CR: Kharen Hill/FOX
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the impulse to grab for the representation of a happy ending in a world where queer folks are treated just as dispensable in reality as fiction, if not worse. But I think it’s just as valuable to force your characters to solve their interpersonal problems as mature adults despite the cruel facade of war they’re being subjected to. What I think listeners deserve is more of the difficult grappling with identity and the necessary growth that comes with triumph. Alice doesn’t get to just apologize for the irreparable damage she’s caused and continue on her mission, she needs to really make time to explain herself and attempt to make things right. And then realize if Keisha doesn’t take her back, if she doesn’t forgive her, she has every right to. Because that’s a consequence of hurting someone, even if you love them. You don’t always get a chance to ride off into the sunset together. Sometimes the relationship doesn’t recover.
I’m not saying I want to see anyone punished; I think this series has more than enough proven how wicked the world can be. I do, however, want to learn from Keisha and Alice what I still struggle so hard to manifest in the real world. I want to see Keisha develop even further into a person who, if not completely confident in her own abilities, at least is comfortable in engaging with her fears on her own. Whose reasons for action and living are not wrapped up in one person. I want to see how Alice demonstrates healthy atonement. How she shifts through guilt and longing and finds a way to define herself beyond the life-altering decision she’s made. Because Alice isn’t dead and neither is Keisha. They both still have the agency to be the best selves they can be and in turn teach us how to do the same. That’s why I don’t want Alice and Keisha to get back together right now. Not yet. It should be a choice that’s earned.
You can download Alice Isn’t Dead today on your favorite podcast service.
Are you following Black Nerd Problems on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr or Google+?
Warning: MAJOR spoilers for the podcast Alice Isn’t Dead. Seriously, if you aren’t caught up on this amazing series I suggest you wait.
So I’m on my way home from work and fighting tears as Keisha (who has just found out that the organization she thought was protecting her from bloodthirsty serial killers is actually all a ruse by the US government), desperately attempts to escape Watcher (who insists on psychologically mangling Keisha before physically doing so), when all of a sudden I realize it: I don’t want Alice and Keisha to get back together.
Don’t get me wrong, it feels like a bizarre conclusion to come to after two seasons of a show literally named for the protagonist’s last shred of hope through a dismal existence plagued by mysterious monstrous beings and inexplicable occurrences. In fact, I’m such a fan of this series that this isn’t even the first time I’ve written about how inspiring listening to another queer (very probably Black) woman struggle with and survive mental illness, heartbreak, and loneliness can be. And yet, here we are at another season finale with Alice ex machina busting in to the rescue and something feels… wrong.
Image by Tumblr user cathartes–aura
The realization starts with the nagging question that the episode gets its title from: Why am I still alive? At first, Keisha thinks it must be because there is a role Bay and Creek has chosen for her (very similar to the role Alice’s disappearance forced her into). Then Watcher coerces her into thinking it’s simply an accident that has been allowed by her killer’s own whims. Then finally it seems to be because Keisha herself fights back and refuses to submit to the will imposed on her by others. Except this moment never gets to happen, not really. The answer becomes Alice the moment she steps in and it feels like an insultingly easy conclusion to Keisha’s character arc.
Maybe it’s because I went through my own painful break-up of sorts recently that Alice seems so undeserving of this spotlight. To be clear, I was the Alice. I made a choice that I thought was in everyone’s best interest but instead hurt people very dear to me because it turned out to be selfish and self-serving. Alice is no different. While the truth may be that at the beginning of the series Keisha simply didn’t have the capacity that she does now to comprehend (much less survive) the terror and slaughter brought about by the Thistle Men, Alice still chose to sacrifice the relationship she promised a lifetime commitment to without the input of her partner. Even if Alice thought she was protecting her wife, she chose to undertake two responsibilities that she had to know were incompatible regardless of which came first. It hardly seems fair for Keisha to endure all of this emotional trauma only for Alice to swoop in and acquire her dependency all over again without really earning it. “I was wrong, I’m sorry,” Alice pleads weakly at the end of the episode. “Will you come with me?” As if, given the fatal circumstances, Keisha has a choice.
Actress Jasika Nicole plays Keisha on Alice Isn’t Dead and Dana Cardinal on Night Vale Presents’ original podcast, Welcome to Night Vale. Image ©2012 Fox Broadcasting Co. CR: Kharen Hill/FOX
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the impulse to grab for the representation of a happy ending in a world where queer folks are treated just as dispensable in reality as fiction, if not worse. But I think it’s just as valuable to force your characters to solve their interpersonal problems as mature adults despite the cruel facade of war they’re being subjected to. What I think listeners deserve is more of the difficult grappling with identity and the necessary growth that comes with triumph. Alice doesn’t get to just apologize for the irreparable damage she’s caused and continue on her mission, she needs to really make time to explain herself and attempt to make things right. And then realize if Keisha doesn’t take her back, if she doesn’t forgive her, she has every right to. Because that’s a consequence of hurting someone, even if you love them. You don’t always get a chance to ride off into the sunset together. Sometimes the relationship doesn’t recover.
I’m not saying I want to see anyone punished; I think this series has more than enough proven how wicked the world can be. I do, however, want to learn from Keisha and Alice what I still struggle so hard to manifest in the real world. I want to see Keisha develop even further into a person who, if not completely confident in her own abilities, at least is comfortable in engaging with her fears on her own. Whose reasons for action and living are not wrapped up in one person. I want to see how Alice demonstrates healthy atonement. How she shifts through guilt and longing and finds a way to define herself beyond the life-altering decision she’s made. Because Alice isn’t dead and neither is Keisha. They both still have the agency to be the best selves they can be and in turn teach us how to do the same. That’s why I don’t want Alice and Keisha to get back together right now. Not yet. It should be a choice that’s earned.
You can download Alice Isn’t Dead today on your favorite podcast service.
Are you following Black Nerd Problems on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr or Google+?
As a Black and Latinx individual being raised in white suburbia, it can be difficult to find representation in mainstream media for your unique experience. You never feel like you are less Black, but apparently everyone tells you that you are. You are reminded everyday that you are a strong Black woman, but loving Fleetwood Mac, The Doors, and Whitney Houston confuses a lot of people who believe what they see on TV as Black. You can imagine my excitement when I heard a show called Blackish was going to be on prime-time television.
Unfortunately for me, Blackish was just that, a good show-ish. The show follows a well-to-do family, the Johnsons, in the suburbs of California (specifically SoCal area) and their lives as a Black family growing in white suburbia. The family consists of mother Rainbow, bi-racial and raised in a hippie household, who prides herself on being a successful doctor; Dre, the “started from the bottom now we’re here” father from Compton, now living in the suburbs working as a marketing agent at a top marketing firm, head of the “urban division” (which they address in the first episode); and their 4 children, who are the subject of Dre’s concern throughout the show that they are indeed not growing up with the necessary Black experience he remembers.
In the first episode, we see Dre worry obsessively that his family is not “Black enough.” Seeing his son enjoy nerdom and his family all around not participating in “traditional Black culture.” By the end of the episode we see Dre dressed in dashiki cloth doing some sort of ritual in the back yard. I was immediately disappointed that I was not going to be able to relate to a show that seemed to be made specifically for me.
Some coercion from my sister, bless her ability of foresight, convinced me to keep watching. As the episodes went on, I realized I was thinking of this in a singular fashion and much too far ahead of the reality of the times. Blackish is a sitcom, like any other sitcom, but it does in fact bring to light the different existences of Black life. It touches on the dichotomy of having to live within white standards but also live with the knowledge of your history and existence as a person of color. Dre is the quintessential epitome of this dichotomy.
Dre is a man who grew up in “the hood”, Compton to be exact. He loves sneakers, looking fresh, and trying to be authentic and often wrestles with this in his adult life in relation to his upbringing. The presence of his parents, Pops (Laurence Fishburne), and his mother, Ruby (Jenifer Lewis), (both of whom do a superb job – of course) play a big role in the classic nature vs. nurture element of the show. What we see through the show is Dre’s ideas of authenticity in Blackness are very much topical and he begins to learn from his family the nuances of being Black. From his love for his wife and his struggle to understand his son Junior, to his adoration for his oldest daughter Zoe, the show truly brings in a narrative we do not see in prime time.
I ended up loving the show, season three is much better than the rest, but I watched the show touch on so many issues that affect people of color in a witty and also serious fashion. From the antics at Dre’s office and his white co-workers to the way they bring in Rainbow’s family — being mixed while also growing up in an environment based on holistic life and the paths this takes POC folks on. I’m reminded of the episode in which Junior dates a white girl and Rainbow has to wrestle with why this bothers her. In another episode, the youngest son Jack uses the N word in school and the consequences and complicated nature of this, not only for him, but for the word in general, are touched on. I have seen the show address police brutality in a bottle episode, playing out the desires we as people of color feel to come together and stand up for justice, and addressing our feelings of rage and at the same time our fears. There’s an episode that tackles the election and all sides if it, from Trump supporters, to rights to vote, to the long-standing oppression of POC in this nation by our government.
The thing that really brings the show home are the children — they are the device for the inner message of the show and the core family values. Jack and Diane, twins and the youngest of the bunch, are the ying and yang. Diane is smart and cynical, while Jack is funny and loves to entertain. Junior loves Dungeons & Dragons, video games, and, of course, is an avid Lord of the Rings aficionado (aren’t we all!). Then there’s Zoe, a beautiful young woman, who takes after her father in personality and is seen as the popular social media queen.
All of these characters together make up an array of Black “other” life that I could not truly acknowledge at the beginning. Not often do you see a sitcom that is willing to take that step and show you the wide reach of Black culture and Black life.
Of course it is still a sitcom, so we have to sit through the sappy moments, the corny episodes, and the jokes to placate the audience, but that in itself is a privilege. They do bring in some questionable characters, (Raven Simone on a show about Blackness when she claims to not see color? and Chris Brown…) but it really is something to have a sitcom of Black life that isn’t a period piece, isn’t about a hard knock life, or isn’t trying to overcompensate for oppression.
All in all, I was getting ahead of myself. I wanted to see a show that delved deeply into the nuances of Black “other” life or some experience that truly made me feel like my existence was not to be made fun of or ridiculed, a show that stood up for people like me not being called “oreos.” In reality, there is an era emerging in media and entertainment that is providing a pathway for the new narrative — Blackish does this. And Tracee Ellis Ross does the damn thing in this show! #actorgoals!
It is refreshing to see a sitcom in the modern world that addresses the fact that a variety of Blackness even exists at all. Check out the new season of Blackish coming back this Fall.
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