‘Emma Mae,’ A Cautionary Warning To Stop Caping For the Wrong Ones

 

Emma Mae film poster.

Jamaa Fanaka (1942-2012)—a filmmaker part of the celebrated L. A. Rebellion pioneers at UCLA and one of the few Black members of the Directors Guild of America— made an interesting piece theatrically released as Emma Mae, retitled Black Sister’s Revenge; starring Jerri Hayes, a theater student at UCLA around the same time as film student Fanaka. 

A smiling Emma Mae (dressed in Sunday church fashion) beside her aunt straight off the bus. DP: Stephen J. Posey.

The sisters are not too pleased by the looks of their country cousin. DP: Stephen J. Posey. 

The revolutionary, commendable Emma Mae has all the makings of a great leader and civil rights activist. She knows how to organize a group and garner attention via her passionate speeches and combative fighting skills (a great foreshadowing). Unfortunately, she performs her mightiest acts in the name of a lover who just does not feel her same ardor. This telltale narrative also sheds light on the real life ways that Black women (especially dark skinned Black women) protest for the men who do not love us, who degrade our skin, hair, and features that mirror their own, and will foolishly embarrass us for the sake of knowing our weaknesses, our gullibility. 

Emma Mae struggles to walk in heels with her overstuffed suitcase as her mother’s family moves ahead of her. DP: Stephen J. Posey.

We meet Jesse in the credits kissing up on his true preference in the beginning. DP: Stephen J. Posey.

When Mississippi hailed Emma Mae gets off the bus in California with her light skinned, reddish-brown Afro haired aunt, her waiting family is initially shocked— perhaps more by Emma Mae’s complexion and mannerisms than anything else. Her cousins reluctantly take Emma Mae out with them and their respective boyfriends. At a party, most of the young crowd (the problematic men who are obviously blind) believe Emma Mae is ugly despite her smooth, flawless skin and straightened hair. Colorism is so high here, giving indication that Wallace Thurman’s Blacker the Berry may have played a significant role in these people’s psyches. After all, Emma Lou Morgan was too a dark skinned girl born from a light skinned mother and a fairer toned family much like Emma Mae’s— except Emma Mae’s kin grow to love her in a way that Emma Lou’s refused to.

Her cousins laugh at Emma Mae every chance they get. DP: Stephen J. Posey. 

Initially, Emma Mae comes across as a dumb country bumpkin, not knowing anything from tacos to dancing. She cannot tell that Jesse holds no genuine affection for her because he plays the cards most men utilize in order to retrieve the things needed most from their victims— sex and money. Emma Mae has fallen prey to the conditions of heartfelt vulnerability. She is expected to fall hard for the first man who pays her a shallow compliment. She beats up other women and cops, runs away with Jesse (a relative stranger), raises money for his bail, and takes his public chastising. This behavior is similar to Thurman’s Emma Lou who’s taken by her handsome lover who recklessly cheats and uses her as a cash cow; a mindset placing Black women at the very bottom of the “true love” barrel. In modern society, Black women are upholding Black men, protesting in their name and honor, caping for those who wouldn’t consider them a beautiful, incredible prize, much less protect them in the face of generational disdain. 

Sarah Nugdalla’s article on Burning the Cape addresses this “Black” first, other labels second struggle:

“Highlighting the issues facing marginalised Black lives is often seen as “divisive” to Black solidarity and cause for the delegitimisation of the movement. However, in order to progress in a movement that represents an all-embracing Black liberation, the gender struggles existing at the heart of Black solidarity are in need of interrogation and call for intra-movement critique.”

Under the manipulative spell of a toxic love and naive to an extreme fault, Emma Mae leaves her family in order to fight against injustice— injustice for Jesse who has repeatedly demonstrated unlawful disrespect. Emma Mae sacrifices her time, energy, and money to the cause (sadly Jesse), speaking the right words with intense conviction. She mirrors that protestor urging for her Black man’s life to matter whilst ignoring the other shady wrongdoings in her community, encouraging the group to join her in raising money for Jesse’s bail— from washing cars to breaking the law— actions that Jesse himself would never reciprocate for her. Even those following Emma Mae know that Jesse is no good, but allow Emma Mae her deluded fantasies, egging on her every effort despite actions becoming increasingly desperate and flagrant, including risking her very freedom. 

Sometimes Black women like Emma Mae are shoved too far in the wrong direction. Also renaming the film Black Sister’s Revenge makes little sense considering that Emma Mae discovers Jesse’s treachery in the last few minutes. She was played a fool a majority of the runtime— doing the most with no real benefit to herself— only a cruel, selfish man. She did not craft a sinister plan to get even, let alone conceive a juicier scheme to have Jesse suffer. Yes, some immense satisfaction happens at her rightful humiliation of Jesse, beating him in the public eye. It’s not enough to warrant that title change. A naive country girl can rob a bank, but she cannot avenge her reputation.  

Emma Mae falls asleep waiting in vain for a released Jesse— who is not thinking about his hero at all. DP: Stephen J. Posey.

Moreover, Emma Mae’s breasts definitely prescribes to Pam Grier’s countless nudity in Jack Hill’s blaxploitation films— this male gaze-y fascination with the Black woman’s fuller shape, almost showcasing exhibitionistic Sarah Baartman vibes. In a particularly strange Emma Mae scene, the three men see Emma Mae’s anatomy as she runs downstairs, pulling down her blouse over her bra-less form— as opposed to fully dressing upstairs without eyes upon her. While those men are not ogling Emma Mae, it seems unnecessary to show her in this way, drawing mind to Black Girl playwright J. E. Elizabeth Franklin’s rightful critique of the male producers desiring to see Billie Jean’s “young girl” breasts and getting their wish in the form of her changing into a bra. Thus, an earlier scene has Emma Mae sharing a bedroom with her youngest cousin and stripping her clothes in front of her. The girl, of course, comments, “you got some big ones.” Insert eye roll. The conversation eventually becomes an imperative woman to girl recourse on the female body, suggesting that society still prefers smaller bust women— duly noted in too many films. Yet is Emma Mae’s exploitation necessary to get that specific point across? 

Very symbolic to place Emma Mae by an etching of Angela Davis— the comfortable representation of Black woman’s beauty prevalent at this time. DP: Stephen J. Posey.

Emma Mae is Jerri Hayes’s only feature film credit. Coincidentally, she played Black Girl’s Billie Jean at the Neighborhood Theatre in San Francisco, California. Hayes makes everyone root for Emma Mae’s deserved respect and admiration. Essentially, it is not difficult to imagine her portraying the more commendable womanist journey of Billie Jean either— a girl committed to her dancing abilities than jumping ridiculous (almost caricaturist) hoops for a man. Both parts require certain facets of a Black women’s strengths and weaknesses— her compassion, dedication, and voice to address the wrongs in society and her dangerous inclination to fight first, ask questions later. If only other filmmakers saw the promising Hayes and put her in works that demonstrated her tremendous skill set like Fanaka who wrote the script specifically with Hayes in mind. 

During a Q&A at BAM Cinema in 2017, Hayes spilled insightful behind-the-scenes tea: 

“I was born in Alabama... Jamaa allowed us to use our creativity. I really directed myself most of the time— that’s the way he wanted it. There was improv. I even wrote dialogue— the monologue when Emma Mae was leaving home... that was my real mother on the wall. Since I lost her at a very early age and she was always a big part of my life, I asked Jamaa if I could put it in the film and he said ‘yes.’ Jamaa took a chance on me. I’m not a film actress. I’m stage... it was a student film. Very low budget. He could not always go back and shoot again. He took the best of what he had and went with it.”

Emma Mae leaves the mess behind. DP: Stephen J. Posey.

While red flags aplenty abundantly wave throughout a film funded by the American Film Institute and the National Endowment of the Arts and featured hundreds of extras appearing for no pay, Emma Mae serves as a message to women everywhere not to fall for the BS, kick butt if need be, and put your good, loving family first. No man is ever worth your dignity.