“Sometimes we women take it on ourselves, don’t we?”
Much has been made about the role black American women play within our society over the past four years. “Listen to black women“, “Black women save America from itself” have been popular refrains as people laud the judgment of women of African descent and the work they put in toward progress nationwide. However, some black women lament the expectation that they always display strength while having their vulnerabilities overlooked. The burden of being the expected caretakers for everyone, particularly when paired with ugly historical implications, can be a heavy one. When you feel pressured to take care of others, the effect this has on your own choices, and then the rest of your life can be long-lasting. Who nurtures the nurturer?
Centered in the story of the film Miss Juneteenth is Turquoise Jones (Nicole Beharie), a former beauty queen and single mother juggling a household, a maturing teenage daughter named Kai (Alexis Chikaeze), and two jobs, one at Wayman’s BBQ & Lounge and the other as a makeup artist in a funeral home. Turquoise is determined to prevent Kai from making the same mistakes that she did as a young woman even if her plans conflict with Kai’s own desires.
The relationship between Turquoise and Kai will ring familiar for many who grew up in households with a black mother laser focused on education as the path to an easier life, particularly if your mother raised you on her own. Turquoise pushes Kai to develop proper speech, etiquette, and all the trappings of being a debutante with an iron fist. As the film goes on, we learn that much of what is fueling Turquoise’s insistence on Kai becoming Miss Juneteenth can be attributed to her own past history with winning the pageant and subsequent missteps. Inhabiting a world where black parents feel obligated to strictly guide their children has led to many displaying a vigorous parenting style that teeters on the line of being healthy and this imbalance can be tipped toward being problematic when a parent may be trying to rectify their own pasts vicariously through their child.
F. Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote that there are no second acts in American lives, but this does not stop some parents from putting pressure on their kids in an attempt to create one. Unlike many stage parents, Turquoise clearly tries to set Kai on the same path she walked partially out of love, but like all parents who project themselves and their experiences onto their kids, she ends up losing sight of Kai’s unique gifts in attempting to force her into her own. Part of loving your child is allowing them to forge their own path, where they will be able to take advantage of their inate talent and draw upon their own fortitude, a lesson that will serve them well into adulthood. As we see in the film, Kai’s journey as her own unique person while honoring her mother’s footsteps shows how the lessons of the past can be merged with the promising future of youth; a valuable lesson for parent and child alike.
Miss Juneteenth’s exploration of mother-daughter relationships also delves into the issue of generational curses. Part of what causes Turquoise to be so hard on Kai is her own fraught relationship with her mother Charlotte (Lori Hayes), a lifelong alcoholic whose addiction forced Turquoise to grow up faster than she should’ve and undoubtedly affected some of her more regrettable decisions, particularly as it pertains to romance. In her determination to be better than her mother and offer Kai more options and structure, her disregard of Kai’s passions and individuality is in danger of recreating the strained mother-daughter relationship and subsequent poor choices that Turquoise is trying so desperately to avoid for Kai. Turquoise’s home life eventually led to loss of her young adulthood, her hopes and dreams. What she’d hoped to accomplish in the world was replaced with responsibility; for herself and a child. Is it any wonder, then, that her determination to avoid the same fate for Kai could lead to an overzealous control by Turquoise over her daughter’s choices?
In navigating a world that often places them at or near the bottom of the socioeconomic totem pole while simultaneously serving at the forefront of their community, black women often find themselves coping silently under the resulting burden, as Charlotte does with alcohol while attempting to maintain her church lady veneer. Having to maintain a steely reserve and appearing “strong” all while craving some support or a shoulder to cry on would weigh on any person, resulting in a demeanor that creates a cycle of depression and distance that passes from generation to generation. Despite her zeal that sometimes infringes on Kai’s self-expression, Turquoise recognizes the toxicity of this dynamic and does her best to end the cycle within her matriarchal line, which in turn eventually allows her to rectify her own parenting missteps before them become too frayed.
Director Channing Godfrey Peoples has crafted a fine feature length debut that feels authentic and spins a tale of generational strife and perseverance through trying circumstances for a demographic that feels oft-overlooked. Nicole Beharie shines in her role as Turquoise, displaying a mostly quiet determinism and focus amidst trying circumstances and the weight of regret. Her chemistry with Alexis Chikaeze, who also puts in a quality performance, powers the majority of the film and gives it its emotional weight. Miss Juneteenth is a layered drama that is sure to resonate with the experiences of black women everywhere.
Image: Vertical Entertainment
