Forty seven years ago, Martin went home and left a void in our world.
Today, to honor that loss, I finally went to see Selma.
I had heard how good a movie it was from many people. But I knew it was going to be difficult to watch.
It is not that anything would be portrayed in that movie that I didn't already know about. But it is qualitatively different to read about it than to witness a reenactment. Perhaps I have even already seen footage. But, I still knew that the brutality would be unbearable.
But, I like depressing movies you might say. The last film I saw was Still Alice -- heartbreaking, but beautiful and in its own way uplifting.
This was different.
All the while I was watching it, all I could do was think of all the people who have given so much of themselves so that we don't have to fight this battle anymore -- and of all the young men and women of color who have died at the hands of the police, lately and historically.
Watching those batons come down on the protesters felt like bearing witness to the continued deaths of so many people.
Tears streamed down my face for much of the movie. I could not help but look away when the most brutal attacks were on the screen.
It is a great film. Very well done, very well acted and directed. But it is brutal... more for the echoes of what we continue to live despite the many blood sacrifices already given.
Big Snow, Little ‘Yote
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