Blowing up our own spot!

I am not a Martin Lawrence fan. Never have been, probably never will be. I wasn't a fan even during the first two years of his show, when the stories made sens and before it devolved into a weekly minstrel spectacle. But, it was with an open mind and some expectations of laughter that I popped in the DVD for Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins. I do remember my highly sensitive coon–meter registering a few blips when the movie was in production and the title was revealed, but after the cast was announced, I decompressed and added it to my mental movie list.

The movie was entertaining; Mike Epps, Monique, and Green Mile (Michael Clark Duncan) provided some hardy and unexpected laughs and even Mr. Lawrence caused me to chortle and guffaw during several slapstickish scenes. The story was solid, if greatly predictable and the theme of "family" was Walton-esque and sufficiently cockle warming. But, throughout the movie, and especially at the end, sticking me in my conscious like a drunken tattoo artist, were characters who cursed at each other across the dinner table, cursed in front of their parents, and lastly Martin, who, in the supposedly triumphant scene at the end, ejects his gold-digging fiancé from his car with an enthusiastic "Bounce bitch,", which his son co-signs with a "Yeah dad!". I'm no prude but I know that this wouldn't fly with any non-movie family I know.

I confess, I am the first person to crack up at an expertly placed "Bitch" or "Bastard" in a screenplay but that is only when it's coming from the mouths of venomous villainous characters or anti-heroes who have more than a few issues. How many times have we seen a sister in a Black movie verbally abuse a brother to the point that the audience is audibly urging her to either shut up or urging the verbal abusee to slap her. Then, after she is inevitably slapped, punched, or worse, the audience erupts in cheers. The worst part is half or more than half of the cheering audiences are female. So then why are we surprised when we are out in public and here some teenager call an adult a "bitch" or when we hear parents calling their sometimes infant- aged children things that would make a marine blush? It's sad to, but the media has far too much influence on our self-image and somehow being disrespectful has come to represent keeping it real in terms of being Black. I know this is the tip of the tip of the iceberg, but when we have the chance to tell our own stories why we have to blow up our own spot? Feel me?