I just watched Will Smith’s, The 14th Amendment. I am still recovering. Crushed, ripped by tears, knotted to rage, sorrow, pride and a bitter-sweet hope but mostly crushed. This is why.
In the first episode, a harrowing documentation of the fight to establish, arguably, the most significant legislation codified into U.S. law, an origin story, of sorts, on the evolution of American citizenship, there was not one mention of Native people. Complete, echoing silence. I could not contain the hollow emptiness and gut-wrenching heartbreak the conclusion of episode one brought me. The tears are still falling.
I imagine the bitter anger and feeling of abnegation this complete passing over of the struggle, the still rolling juggernaut of oppression grinding and piercing Native demands for even a moment’s recognition, a sustained glance, and I am profoundly ripped by an exclusion that screams out the fundamental failure of our species to create an inclusive tapestry of our interlinked and vastly painful narratives. An amazing first episode, brilliantly focused leaving vast vistas of overlooked stories, raging to be told.
It is time. Let our stories, collectively and intertwined, sing or pain to find a freeing joy.
There is no mention of Native people in any of episode synopsis of The 14th Amendment. Not one.