Meet the Characters: Johnathan

Johnathan is a friend.  A confidante.  A caretaker.  He represents a figure most of us need in our life; the one person we can always count on.  He’s the brother we never had or the sister we’ve always wanted; he’s the auntie who keeps all of our secrets or the uncle who slips us alcohol when our parents aren’t looking.  

From the very first draft of No Lies Told Then, I had a good sense of who Johnathan is.  Of all the characters, his journey changed the least from the first to the “final” draft.  His introduction to the audience never changed.  His pivotal role in each character’s life remained the same.  In some ways, he’s remained calm, steady force I always imagined in a world that is unsettled.

Although he is calm, he doesn’t lack a personality.  It was important to create a rich life for this character so he isn’t another cardboard cutout in whom other characters confide, or the wise older man who has all the answers.  He couldn’t be the character who is used by others to convey information; he had to be a living, breathing person of his own.

Johnathan is a British expat and when we first meet him he’s in his 50s.  We see him through the eyes of a child:  older, dignified, slightly eccentric with his gold earrings, colorful clothing and propensity to smoke things that aren’t yet legal.  To a child who has only known people in and from her community, he’s an intriguing change-of-pace.

He is also a man who chooses to put his life on hold to help someone in desperate need of being saved.  To more than one character he dispenses sound advice, and from a distance, he watches without judgement.  That’s part of the beauty of Johnathan; his ability to be there without interfering or sucking all the oxygen out of the room.  He is the glue that holds these lead characters together during the two hours we will spend with them.

What’s beneath the surface though, is a man who has loved and lost, and one of the challenges was to convey a bit of his history without detracting from the main story.  I had to straddle the line; show an imperfect character with his own tumultuous journey, and someone who isn’t broken or bitter about his past.

I sometimes think of him as the conscience of No Lies Told Then.  He’s that voice in the back of our head that will tell us the truth when we don’t want to face it.  He’s the one that will give us tough love or a warm embrace when it’s needed.  Perhaps one of the best things about this character is when these characters fall, he’s the one who’s always ready to catch them.

Black Actresses and the Flawless Embodiment of Sisterhood

Regina and Taraji

If there’s a trope reality TV and its viewers like to feast on, it’s fighting, feuding, backstabbing, scheming, gossiping women who seem out to get each other for the most mundane reasons. You don’t have to look far to find it, throw a stone at the TV guide and you’ll come across women flinging drinks and hating on each other. A special flavor of this feast, one that has proven to be tried, tested, enjoyed and overdone is fighting black women.

From Love and Hip Hop to Real Housewives of Atlanta, and even on shows like America’s Next Top Model, women of color are constantly pitted against one another and the result is high ratings, blog mentions and sadly the perpetuation of an unfortunate stereotype – the one that portrays black women as bitter, jealous, angry and aggressive. Every time a woman takes off earrings and attempts to snatch a wig – we all point and laugh and some of us even shake our heads and say “black women…”

It’s a hard stereotype to shake and we could easily say we see different forms of it – whether it’s watered down when people judge Serena Williams for not smiling or highly concentrated when a black woman speaking up for her rights is dismissed as aggressive. No, it isn’t fair but it is definitely what is considered the norm.

Isn’t reality TV supposed to be – well, real? I’m not impressed by the way we are portrayed time and again and that’s why I draw so much inspiration from the sisterhood of black actresses who don’t fight over the spotlight or start pointless social media wars. They do more than that – they support each other, root for each other and walk together as sisters in a struggle that’s greater than any ego, role or the celebrity culture that bows down to the individual.

In 2012 during her ESSENCE Black Women in Hollywood acceptance speech, Kerry Washington said, “There’s room for all of us.”  It was a stirring acknowledgement of the difficult journey women of color face in a Hollywood that is deaf to the depth and breadth of our experience.  Her speech was filled with loving words for her colleagues, and the need for artists to continue bring to life, with passion, the many stories that have yet to be told.

My heart was warmed when I saw Gabrielle Union and Kerry Washington on a red carpet, greeting each other with so much love and respect. I’ve noticed, when a new movie/TV show comes out starring black actresses, their peers support them because black sisterhood shouldn’t be about fighting over ratings but fighting to make more space for other women of color, so that more girls can “cross the line” Viola Davis so perfectly mentioned in her acceptance speech.

Viola Davis’ speech and the fact that she was standing on that stage touched me, and when she mentioned other black actresses I felt my eyes well up with inspired tears. What really got me going was when she started listing her peers – sharing the spotlight with Taraji, Kerry, Halle, Nicole, Gabrielle and Meagan. That moment, her being the first black woman to win that Emmy wasn’t just about her – we all felt like we were up there with her and the reactions of Taraji and Kerry show that sisterhood, black sisterhood exists and it is beautiful, unlike the horrors we see on many of our screens nowadays.

During the 2015 Emmy Awards the love and respect this exclusive club feels for each other was palpable.  The victories, from Regina King to Uzo Aduba to Viola Davis were not celebrated in a vacuum.  Indeed, they were celebrated by the legions of black actresses before them, those who will come after and all of us at home who waited years for this moment.

This isn’t just a sisterhood of hugs and air kisses – it’s a sisterhood built on mutual love and belonging because the struggle is won by collective effort, support and excellent work. I want this to rub off on all women who think it’s impossible for girls to get along, the ones who say they can never ever be friends with other girls. Black sisterhood is possible and it is real – sometimes we have to look away from manufactured reality to the real heroines who embody #blackgirlmagic.  

Perceptions of Black Womanhood: No Weakness Allowed?

Femininity and more specifically society’s perception of it is a highly volatile, complicated and often confusing thing. As women go through the stages that commence with cute, innocent playful girlhood to reach womanhood – the age where society’s pressure piles on, requires more from us and puts a load of expectations on our shoulders. It’s not all gender politics and societal difficulty though – womanhood is also the time we can begin to make choices that suit us, put dreams into action, discover who we are and truly hone the power that is your femininity.

It’s in adulthood that a woman realizes how much power she can possibly have to demand attention and respect from a man – but this realization awakens her to the question of how to use this potent power. A woman can easily be a Helen of Troy, but just as easily she could be overlooked and cast aside by a world that places value on a woman’s outward appearance and her ability to stay in her place as the female of the species. The expectation is that she must not ruffle feathers, challenge, argue or possess a pile of ambitions higher than her male counterpart but at the same time – she must be strong.

The word strong is thrown around a lot but what characterizes it, like a baking recipe is the fine balance of ingredients. In the case of black womanhood strength sounds something like “when the world puts you down, take it with grace and good nature, show your strength through a steely silence and never let them see you break down.” It’s this, the strange balance between weakness and bravery that black women often have to master to fit into the ideal of the perfect woman.

When we watched police officers in McKinney Texas rough up a black female teenager, it became clear that black girls become women a whole lot earlier than they should. A certain distorted maturity is seen in these girls and their demeanor should reflect that – depriving them of the necessary time to make mistakes and not have to grapple with heavy decisions or worse – a misunderstanding society. Their mothers, often suppressed and even ignored by the same world, militantly train their daughters to build up a wall to protect their budding fragile femininity.

There is also the case of a Harris County incident where a black woman was forced to endure a genital cavity search by a sheriff’s deputy during a traffic stop who claimed he smelled marijuana coming from her car.  It is an example of another type of strength, yet a familiar story for so many black women – to remain dignified while being violated.

Although different incidents involving two women of color at various stages of their life, the expectations remained the same:  submit to authority, suffer in silence, keep your head high. It is an archetype we’ve seen time and time again which perpetuates the myth of the “strong black woman” while ignoring the fullness and complexity of our collective experience.

The Nightly Show discusses Black Womanhood

n No Lies Told Then black womanhood is explored at each important stage. Bridget is the adult black woman, who we see as the end product of society’s belligerence towards feminine blackness. She has been battered by the system, disappointed by love and even her dreams – what should have been driving her forward. She has taken on the persona television and movies loves to show over and over again – the woman looking for someone to want her, someone to kiss away the disappointment and tell her that she’s beautiful, even if she constantly looks for it in all the wrong places. She’s the woman that looks bitter to the world – but she’s actually just nursing a pain we can actually blame on the world. She’s the woman mulling over what could have been and what could have been achieved. Now, as a mother – she has to allow her daughter to dream but create a protective barrier so that this little girl does not also go through the same disappointments she did.  She loves her child but that child also reminds her of the detour her life took, never to be the same again. It creates a complicated relationship full of tugs of war and tension as both sides wishes things we different, all the while having to fight the world together – because beyond being mother and child they share black womanhood.

Next to Bridget we have Sandra at age 37, carrying baggage and unquenched wants and needs that start to make her resemble Bridget, the woman she used to look at and expect to be better than. Being a woman’s daughter means you share the bond that makes it possible for her to live her life through you. When you’re young this means being dressed in the clothes she imagines you in and when you’re older this means correcting her mistakes by avoiding them. For all her efforts – Sandra finds herself becoming Bridget. She obviously has found success but there’s no fulfillment because she wants more. At a certain age society stages a reckoning where you’re expected to bring forward what you’ve achieved and also enter the things you’ve failed at for further analysis. Sometimes, as it does for Sandra, the reckoning takes place within, because she looks like she has it all but knows she has barely scratched the surface. We meet Sandra when she feels that her powerful femininity is fading and that her time to set things right is running out. It mirrors how society gives women expiry dates for their femininity and looks down upon a woman who hasn’t ticked off the checklist of expectations that comes with it.

Sandra in her 20s is the picture of black womanhood that presents us with great hope. There is promise, there is potential, there is beauty and there is power. The world has started expecting but it’s still giving leeway and room for mistakes. It’s at this age where often the seeds of what kind of woman one can become are planted; and it’s the age where one can easily sit themselves in a life that they’ll later regret. It could be the result of making a decision to hastily or just not having the courage to aim higher and do all that you’re capable of. Interestingly enough these are in turn things that could easily have been planted by the woman that raised you.

Young Sandra, at 13, is right at the start of the trek to womanhood – decisions are still being made for her and while she enjoys a youthful existence, it’s clear that her experiences and relationship with her mother has forced to grow up a little faster than she needed to. Even in her meeting of George – where she declares she could love him – she says words that seem more natural coming out of the mouth of a woman with several more years on her. Even her conversations with Johnathan reveal a girl with a womanly awareness – thus blurring the lines between girlhood and womanhood.

Strength, or the expectation of it is the string that runs through all stages of black womanhood. It of course exists in different intensities at different ages but there is ultimately the need to always seem okay, to never break down and to learn to temper your feelings. The expectation is to ultimately stay strong as a woman and never show girlish weakness and it works as both a defense mechanism and the root of society’s problem of failing to see a black woman’s pain, disputing it or ignoring it altogether.  It is up to us, writers of stories, filmmakers with a camera and women of all ages to lift our collective voice and change stereotypes of who we are as a gender and a people.

Meet Bridget: Dreaming through her Daughter

I’ve always admired mothers.  Most work, juggle their own schedule with those of their children, maintain the house and keep everyone’s life in order.  Mothers are truly the backbone of the family and, in my opinion, society.  I’ve often wondered though, after they take care of everyone else, what’s left for them?

My mother had a life before I was born, and she still does, but it was different.  It was free of responsibility and the pressure of trying to be all things to all people.  I was so busy letting her take care of me and our family, it wasn’t until I was older that I bothered to ask about her hopes and dreams.

Mothers are taken for granted and rarely fully appreciated.  Where would we be without mothers who pick us up when we fall, love us in spite of our shortcomings, sacrifice for our future?  

When I conceived of the character, Bridget, it was important to give her a rich backstory, even if it wasn’t fully explored.  We see this woman now, but who could she have been?  Like so many mothers, she was on a certain path and was derailed by life.

Bridget is the woman we’ve all seen: the no nonsense mother, the determined survivor, the quietly vulnerable lady who has seen too much, loved too hard and challenges her daughter to escape her disappointing shadow.  

She’s the faceless passenger on the train at the end of the day whose makeup is cracking, feet are aching, clothing is askew and hair has seen better days. Distractions are all around, young men twisting and turning their bodies in all directions to the beat of music she no longer understands as they climb the poles all fearless and limber, hoping for a few loose coins for their performance; she’d give it to them if she had it to spare.  Others are sleeping or deeply engrossed in their game or book, but most stare ahead blankly, trying not to make eye contact, like her, thinking of the life that is slowly breaking them down.

This isn’t the life she wants, but it’s what she has. If she closes her eyes tightly, she can see a different version of her life.  She has the wealth she dreamed of and men fall helplessly under her spell, bowing to the Queen she knows she is.  If they are lucky, maybe she will choose one to give a little more of herself because she is a woman who knows what she wants, needs, and she’s not afraid of telling him exactly that.  She has someone to make sure she eats right, doesn’t drink too much and stays away from the things that may harm her glorious voice.  Life is...easy.

But in that other world, where glitz overshadows substance, she is not a mother or best friend; she doesn’t know the warmth of her daughter’s arm or the unconditional love she gives and receives.  This hard life of long days, cheap clothing, persistent exhaustion isn’t what she dreamed, but it’s her reality and she is going to make the most of it.  If only so her daughter has a real shot.

Bridget is every mother.    

"Upcoming Indie Film No Lies Told Then explores Black Womanhood, Dreams, Ambition and Love"

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Torri Oats

Black Film and Television are certainly having a moment right now – but it doesn’t just feel like the latest trend. It feels like the earth was shaken to finally shed light on stories the world really needed to hear and was missing out on. It’s a welcome resurgence that many have long waited for, bolstered by tireless activism and bold protests in artistic form. It’s an explosion that has electrified the world and put Hollywood on its toes and it’s inspiring to watch. Within this, black femininity has taken centre stage, with black women fighting to have their own stories told beyond Hollywood stereotypes.

Black female filmmakers and television writers have taken the pen into their own hands and the depth and realness of their characters shows. Writer and Filmmaker Torri Oats has stepped into the ring to lend herself to the cause – giving a voice to the voiceless. No Lies Told Then, is an upcoming film that directly tackles the subject of black womanhood and mixes it in with dreams, ambition, painful memories and complicated love, by tracing how someone becomes who they become. It’s a journey Torri’s script powerfully captures. Here, we get more details about the film and what Torri envisions for it as she prepares for its release in 2016.  

Violet Kadzura: Tell us a bit about No Lies Told Then and its main character Sandra.  

Torri Oats: Broadly, No Lies Told Then is the story of our collective journey told through the eyes of one.  It’s that moment when we look at ourselves and wonder, “How did I get here?”  Most importantly, it’s how we choose to proceed from that realisation on; will we continue on the path that may not be right, or will we leap and choose that path that will fulfil us in every way?  Specifically, it’s the story of a successful author on deadline, fighting to salvage her career, forced to confront feelings for a past lover. At a crossroad, she has to let go of the bitter pain that’s threatening to destroy her or watch as her greatest dream slips through her fingers.

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