America to Me
Steve James’ “America to Me” has been recognized as an incredible achievement because it is a reflection of the current state of the nation with respect to race and what needs to be done for us all work together towards brighter future. James does this by telling individual stories that are relatable against a national backdrop of social problems something he achieved in “Hoop Dreams,” “Life Itself,” and “Abacus: Small Enough to Jail.”
He may be the most humane filmmaker we have; someone who knows how bring out interesting things about peoples lives while also showing genuine concern for them as individuals with their own destinies ahead of them. What sets him apart from other directors is his ability listen cinematically: getting close enough so that people can let their guard down on camera, which allows viewers an opportunity believe there might be kids or teachers like those featured throughout this country people just struggling through each day trying be heard and make some impact.
The idea behind this ten-episode series, which premieres on Starz Sunday night, is simple. James and his crew spent a year at Oak Park and River Forest High School, on the west side of Chicago (and only about an hour from me). OPRF is a fascinating school to study because it draws from so many different racial and economic backgrounds. It’s a place with 3,200 kids where it feels like anyone can find success or get drowned out by the crowd. How do you carve out your own personal space in such a large throng? And how is that teenage quest for identity shaped by racial politics during high school?
“America to Me” doesn’t shy away from that last question. It was pitched to the school as “stories of race and academics in this diverse public school,” and it keeps coming back to issues of diversity. They can be big-picture conversations about how the achievement gap between minority and white kids has actually been growing over the past few years or small-picture ones about individual stories from the show’s subjects along the way.
There are fascinating talking points in between those two poles too, especially regarding how teachers at different levels and from different backgrounds handle race. Many of the teachers in “America to Me” seem willing to admit they don’t have all the answers. How do you get kids in an AP class that’s mostly white to talk about race in a way that’s productive when it comes time to read The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass? They’ll all chime in with slavery was bad but go quiet when you mention white privilege.
High school is really when so many of us define who we are; how could teachers ignore the racial aspect of that? You see just how hard some of these people are working, asking questions of themselves, trying to make a difference with their students. There’s a moment later on when a teacher can see the impact she had on a formerly quiet student speaking up for himself that’s so subtly moving it brought me to tears.
It’s an event that is obviously minor in the grand scheme of things, but just encouraging young people, especially young black people, to express themselves can be so major in that young person’s life. So much of “America to Me” is just about creating space for people to be themselves, something that’s simply harder for non-white kids than it should be. As one of the most memorable students says, “This school was made for white people.”
The gift of “America to Me” is that the macro is in the micro; the big picture for all of us is in the relatively little one of this particular school. You could film the action of a year at any American high school, especially in a racially diverse neighborhood, and produce something interesting about where we are in the ‘10s but it’s how James and his team construct “America to Me” that’s so exceptional. You can feel both empathy and frustration within seconds.
Why are these individuals failing despite their best efforts? One of the things that stuck with me was a question asked in episode six: “How do we define smart?” This may be different from you to me; it may be different for kids coming from different backgrounds.
As I watched the series, I kept thinking about how earlier on there’s a scene where they discuss the achievement gap at OPRF and a parent says something along the lines of, “Don’t lose sight of my kid.” While people get wrapped up in the bigger issues, kids are living their lives. They’re thriving and failing. What is OPRF all about? What are any of these conversations all about? How do we fix society without losing track of what needs fixing right in front of us every day? And it’s a question that can be applied on a grand scale. As everyone talks about what needs to change in this country and why, how do we not lose sight of the actual people impacted by its inequity?
To illustrate his points, James selects an incredible cast of teenagers, many who seem to be giving everything they have to their passions. We spend a lot of time at spoken word competitions and wrestling matches and cheerleading practices. Again, themes emerge through action instead of just interviews. It’s about perception that black girls dancing on off time at a cheerleading competition will be perceived differently than the white ones, or how spoken word from a white person is going to inherently be less embraced by the judges than the black ones speaking to issues of Chicago racial injustice.
James goes into these racially charged areas like athletics and poetry with race on his mind as well as ours then shows how much those obvious racial politics are also part of everyday life. But know this: “America to Me” is not a mournful cry for racial justice. It is often joyful. When I think back on it now I see Charles’ face and Kendale’s face and Grant’s face and Tiara’s face and the rest of the kids at OPRF. They’re just trying to get through these long days of youth. They’re just trying to figure out what America means to them. What can we, all of us, do to help? Well for starters, maybe we should listen.
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