Baby Boy has got to be one of the most irritating movies…ever. Aside from the fact that it seems to be the only film BET thinks the world should watch, the main character’s nickname is Jody. Really, how many brothas do you know named Jody?
He didn’t illustrate it in the most appealing way—I’m pretty sure we all got tired of seeing Tyrese’s big behind on a bike—but John Singleton was actually on to something. His film illustrates the harsh thrust from the wonderful world of childhood when someone older is always blamed for our actions to the bill-paying, difficult decision-making, hard-working world of adulthood.
Just when I thought the hardest decision I had to make was selecting the right dress to wear to prom and which boy I’d take, my parents sent to me to this really cold, usually depressing place where the meals are few and fatal, and the sleep is even worse. They called it college—and tried to convince me that during some severe lapse of sanity I’d actually chosen to be here and that I would somehow be better off after I left—but sometimes I thought I’d be better off at boot camp, at least it’d be cheaper. Deciding which classes to take, which people to trust, which boys to run away from, which dish not to eat at the dining hall was all hard. Negotiating with tuition collector’s who thought I could pull $45,000 out of my butt, speaking over the bold bastards in class who thought I’d checked some magical affirmative action box on my application to get into college, and holding onto my faith when it felt like every demon in hell was working against me, was even harder. It was all part of this weird adulthood I’d somehow earned simply by being alive for eighteen years.
Regardless of when we burst onto the grown-up stage, and no matter how well we have been prepared, there is still some shock and pain involved. There is a lot to be afraid of in the world that we meet in our adulthood. There’s the credit crisis, the war in Iraq, the seriously ill auto industry, job freezes, layoffs left and right, tuition hikes and grant/scholarship decreases, racism, classism, sexism, HIV/AIDS, cancer, unexpected pregnancies, abuse and assault. These monsters of maturity make for the perfect storm. The issues of the world we live in make for the perfect excuse to retreat back to the safety of childish things. Sometimes the shock is so great, we can be tempted to retreat from life altogether; three students at my school proved this when they committed suicide this past semester. No matter how often your “mama said there’d be days like this,” there is a big difference between expecting the trials and triumphs of adulthood and experiencing them. But we have to remember that it is in this same adult world that we have elected the first Black president of America. With privilege comes great responsibility.
What we can all use our brilliant adult minds to conclude is: life is not going to get any easier, but we can be as joyful or despairing as we decide we want to be. I like to look at adulthood in the context of a popular adult pastime (um…not that I know anything about this personally). Adulthood is like drinking. You spend every moment longing for it once you first learn about it, and how much fun it’s supposed to be. At first, you try to keep up with your friends, but eventually you realize you have to get your own pace. You see some people get really messed up by it, but you know as long as you’re responsible, you’ll be fine. And when you get really bold, you take it straight, no chaser. You know going in that there will be some pain and burning when it goes down, but you know the buzz you get in the end is all worth it.
Cheers baby! Here’s to leaving that baby boy/baby girl mentality behind.
Disclaimer: This blog does not advocate the consumption of alcoholic beverages. If you must drink, drink responsibly (translation: only do it if you’re at least 21, not on medication, not driving, and not holding your phone).
