'Nothing but a Man' Begins the 'Black Struggle Love' Epidemic

Nothing But a Man film poster.

Nothing But a Man is considered a classic masterpiece about living during the civil rights era and has since been inducted into the Library Film Congress. It also happens to be probably one of the earliest depictions of Black Struggle Love-- the premise of lovers staying together despite great obstacles, usually the Black woman staying by the side of a down on his luck Black man.

Furthermore, "Struggle Love" is the idea that Black women must lower their standards for men and settle for relationships that do not benefit them and in fact, harm them and hold them back in life.

The problematic trope is rendered through the white lens of director Michael Roemer who co-wrote the screenplay with Robert M. Young.

Duff Anderson (Ivan Dixon) with the other bachelors working the railroad and sharing a dorm.

Duff Anderson is a hardworking Black man on the railroad squad of single men, always smiling, charming. In Birmingham, Alabama, he pursues Josie Dawson, a preacher's daughter and schoolteacher with intentions not at all honorable-- asking right after their first outing if she wants to hit the hay because he isn't interested in marriage. Eventually, he marries her despite the protest of her overbearing parents.

A smitten Duff (Ivan Dixon) on a first outing with Josie (Abbey Lincoln).

The date is ruined when white men surround Duff's car and threaten violence on Josie. She is nonchalant and he tries not to become irate.

Life is sweet and blissful for the couple (pie feeding, boxing matches whilst taking down laundry) until Duff gets fired, outed as a "Trouble Man." Due to the label that has spread across town, Duff has challenges acquiring another job. Duff and Josie continue to be positive through the storm even though Duff's patience is slowly wearing thin. After all, Josie still has a job teaching and back then, it hurt a man to not be able to provide for his household. Racial politics are a huge barrier for Duff to break through, new shackles with no possible key to freedom. Instead of civilly discussing the mental and emotional anguish fueled by the age old white male emasculation of the Black body, Duff abuses Josie, yelling at her, viciously striking her.

"I never should have married you," Duff says, looking at Josie's fallen form, lying helplessly on the ground.

This illustrates the harm that comes with "struggle love" relationships-- physical, emotional, psychological turmoil that one partner inflicts on the other, the "weaker" of the two. Duff and Josie's marriage opens up the deep resentment he feels about her sheltered upbringing. Her having a father figure too is especially paramount. She grew up surrounded and protected by love. Whereas he grew up in a harsher reality, going as far as abandoning his own son (and at one point claiming the son wasn't his) like his own absent father.

An earlier scene where a Black neighbor (Duff's former co-worker) is loudly ostracized by his wife ironically presents that the opposite will happen between Duff and Josie.

Before the marital bliss comes amiss.

Now Josie is a resilient, compassionate, free spirit. She cares about her students and stands up to her parents. Under the heavy weight of Duff, however, she loses an earlier independence, carrying the load and remaining an optimistic and loyal wife. When he walks out, leaving her to find himself, she is devastated, further oppressed by the man she loves. Duff is not willing to work together because to work together means more lashing out at Josie. He cannot tolerate Josie's unbending devotion and she cannot understand his frosty distance. Moreover, Josie withstanding Duff's treatment is such detestable hogwash. She has had a privileged life including the love of two parents, but should not be punished because Duff cannot function in the white man's society. They should brave these obstacles together-- they are a partnership, a union. Many Black men and women even now continue to face great strife. It doesn't mean that Black love takes a backseat. Along with the racial tension, Duff has to confront his past: his absentee father and his son, in other words unpack his baggage and break the cycle. And he makes this journey without Josie. She could do much better, but waits for her love to return.

Meanwhile, Duff's alcoholic father abuses his girlfriend immensely, revealing that though Duff and his father are merely strangers, a certain ugly pattern is ingrained in their DNA.

Josie (Abbey Lincoln) is happy with Duff for a time.

Despite the heartbreaking screenplay and the noticeable lack of dark skinned Black women (most speaking women characters are either light or fair skinned with ambiguous features), the charismatic Ivan Dixon leads as Duff. He is able to channel a charming, good-natured presence and sweep into the undertow of the specific depression that only racism can trigger. Abbey Lincoln manages to shine as a character that slightly resembles the bamboozled Ivy in For the Love of Ivy. Earlier moments with Duff show an eager woman ready for romance, moments in the classroom show a tender, motivational teacher, and moments with her parents show a defiant women ready to burst from their shadow.

Duff comes home.

Nothing But a Man's depiction of Black love may not be all strawberries and roses, revealing that love can mean being pushed hard with words and hands-- Black Struggle Love personified-- in between the gritty "stand by your man" logistics is a small triumph.

'Black Girl' Bears A Heavy Mental Diagnosis for Black Women

Black Girl film poster.

Despite being released in 1960, Ousmane Sembène's award-winning Black Girl exposes the oppressive system set in the colonialist world today and should be required watching material for those invested in classic films revealing deeper provocation through a Black lens. Black Girl is one of the better offerings on the eclectic Criterion Channel streaming service, launched after Film Struck's unfortunate demise.

Diouana (Mbissine Thérèse Diop) is a stylish, carefree young woman in Dakar seeking a job to support her family.

A picture of joy and passion (here in her boyfriend's bedroom), Djouana's disposition will shift in the employ.

In this compelling masterpiece, it is like a grand fairy tale that an excited Senegalesen woman named Diouana is singled out and chosen to care for a French woman's children. She has dreams for seeing the big, fancy city and becoming as sophisticated as the European magazine models (though quite frankly she is already utterly beautiful and charming). Anything must be more fascinating than the rural life of the impoverished village girl in Dakar. Yet the white Madame has entirely different intentions. At first polite and accommodating Madame gradually changes into a name-calling, slaphappy villain. And Madame's husband, Monsieur, though lenient and kind to Diouana, is silent to his wife's obnoxious behavior.

Diouana slowly becomes morose and solitary, staying in rooms too long, her sanity compromised for the benefit of a rich, bossy stranger. She obviously feels great humiliation from this unexpected betrayal, weighted down by the naivety of illusions. Diouana has fallen under the spell that these misguided illusions cast, often making Black women believe that her country, that where she comes from is less valid than the falsely advertised, materialistic propaganda.

That hungry desire for something better cannot always be found in predominantly white spaces.

Madame (Anne-Marie Jelinek) and Diouana (Mbissine Thérèse Diop) with the letter from Diouana's mother.

Black Girl raises existing concerns about white women's damaging perception and desire to control Black women's bodies-- a whole ugly history entirely. They are not innocent flowers more like complicit allies-- abusing Black women's bodies in any way possible, especially considering their role in slavery (which was not simply just a demonstration of white man's physical, mentally, emotional power over Black bodies). For example, Madame continuously calls Diouana "lazy." Tired, overworked Diouana, the Madame's mule, is the one cooking, cleaning, and watching the madam's children. Under the guise of feminism, certain white women defensively keep hold of white patriarchal views and white supremacy because in both instances white women are the primary victor, the apple in the white man's eye. Recently, even a non-Black woman of color author called out a transit worker on social media for eating on public transit. In so many critical eyes, Black women are incapable of showing weakness (sleepiness, hunger, sadness, etc.) and that fabrication needs to end today. Madame ruthlessly enjoyed having authority over Diouana and utilized it every chance she could.

 

Diouana may have felt unsatisfied in Dakar. Perhaps something 

Mon Cherie is likely familiar to modern day publications Seventeen, Vogue, Glamour, etc., magazines that amp up the white women's beauty while making women of color find their own lacking.

Diouana is not allowed a moment's peace. The girl cannot do her own hair without Madame needing assistance.

Diouana's mental illness--often grossly questioned in the Black community-- affects encounters with her further abusive employer. Withdrawn and internalizing her sadness without a true outlet to release frustrations, Diouana's plight from humble beginning to bittersweet end presents a psychological parallel raising awareness on the harmful effects of a specific form of white abuse. She is grossly lied to, manipulated, paraded about, exhibited like a wild savage to the madam's rude dinner friends. An isolated Black woman in a foreign country without no friends and no resources has only the option of remaining in their employ or running away and being subjected to all sorts of other dangerous cruelties in the streets. 

 

Diouana calls Madame and Monsieur's house a prison, merely stating that that she has no free agency to exist in a role beyond a racialized, gender specific stigma. The bars are invisible. Yet her emotional frame of mind is broken, irreparable. 

 

In her room, a depressed Djouana admits a devastating defeat.

Black Girl is a short yet morally important film that stands the test of time. With a resonating "yesterday" feeling weaved into Diouana's heartbreaking story, it is groundbreaking work in its exploration of mental crisis caused by racism and the problematic scope of white women's lack of supporting Black women's interior and exterior being. Plus, Mbissine Thérèse Diop's underrated performance (as well as some of her own handmade clothes) is worth the sixty-minutes.

'For Love of Ivy' and the Plight of the Bamboozled Black Woman

For Love of Ivy film poster.

"The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her."-- Bob Marley

For Love of Ivy's premise presents harm on top of harm-- Ivy Moore, a twenty-seven-year old black housekeeper wants to quit the employ of a prominent white family, the Austins. In their desperate need to keep her, the siblings, Tim and Gena blackmail Jack Parks, a black conman, to woo her. This is one of the first Hollywood pictures putting a black couple together. Sidney Poitier came up with this extremely problematic story that strikes too close to home.

Ivy (Abbey Lincoln) makes her formal resignation announcement and Mrs. Austin (offscreen Nan Martin) does not take it well. It is real convenient that instead she has been meaning to ask Ivy to call her by her first name, Doris or even "Mom" (why??) in order to feign some deeper connection rather than that of master and slave.  

Sweet, nurturing Ivy is slender and brown clashing with the typical dark skinned, heavier bodied mammy stereotype. She plans to quit housekeeping in order to pursue secretarial school and perhaps then see the world. Every character is obsessed with owning her future. The family needs her to do what they should know how. Jack is a veteran and pretentious divorcee who operates a truck and has an illegal gambling ring. He uses Ivy as a means to securing a greater fortune.

They first meet at the mall. Jack has just been offered the gig and is noticeably uncomfortable. Ivy is clueless. The siblings force Ivy to change dinner plans, allotting for Jack to come over. The dinner is awkward. Ivy, however, seems to like Jack regardless of his abrasive intensity. The next night, they have a second date.

After Jack is exposed, Ivy doesn't get days, weeks, and months to be angry at him. She is hurt for a few minutes. Her ready acceptance of him leaves behind a brittle aftertaste. Jack could have said no, lost the account, and moved on. Instead, he took the bait with that greedy relish in his eyes and took Ivy along for the thrill ride.

Tim (Beau Bridges, far right) invites Jack (Sidney Poitier) to come over for dinner and forces Ivy (Abbey Lincoln, far left) to change the menu because Jack hates pot roast. Co-conspirator Gena (Lauri Peters, second left) is all in. 

The parallels between Ivy's mistreatment and the history of disrespected black women is metaphorically intertwined. It boils down to care and sympathy. The huge issue with the film's narrative is that the deceptive trickster and the naive spinster are stuck in a watered down "take me as I am" love story. The characters are not fleshed out, but familarity lies bared and opened, an old begotten, unhealed wound. Black women have been fooled, led astray by those who have claimed to love us. One moment, avid supporters would wear #SayHerName t-shirts, march for women's rights, and talk about black women nurturing them. In a flash, they would be calling black women names in interviews, in music videos, on social media, spitting on black women while uplifting white and non-black women. For example, black women were the first to be blamed for Nate Parker's failed Birth of a Nation and not his past actions. Of most educated class, black women are not equally paid in America. For Love of Ivy definitely puts Ivy at the bottom, forcing her to pick lowliest of men. She isn't granted the choice of having higher standards.

Opportunistic Jack may like Ivy on some basic level, but love is a leap.

Customs or not, where is the love when Jack is already stuffing his face at the Asian restaurant before Ivy even reaches the table? Where is the love when Jack is quick to inform Ivy he has no intentions of marrying her? Is it when he sates his lust in seconds? Sure, the act is consensual, but it certainly didn't help matters that beforehand Jack kept leaning in for kisses despite Ivy's obvious discomfort. If Ivy had known at verbatim that he was taking advantage, she probably wouldn't have slept with him. The second love scene (the first being implied) is a ravishing man powered by desire, using sex to shut off invasive questioning urged by reasonable curiosity. Ivy complies to Jack's whims as opposed to receiving answers about this secretative man.

Again, it must be addressed that black women are the stones that others step on before reaching the bigger prize-- non black women. After all, during filming, divorcee Poitier had been having an affair with Diahann Carroll. Poitier's good friend Harry Belafonte also had a thing about not marrying black women. Eartha Kitt, one of Belafonte's hosts of black lovers had said:

"The men I wanted to be with, Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte, dated predominatly white women. I’m talking about the 50s. When Harry Belfonte picks me out of his bed in Philadelphia and said: ‘I don’t want you to take me seriously because no Black woman can do anything for me’. I could not help him to progress into where he was going to go. “A black woman would hold a black man back’, that’s what he told me. If I wanted to marry a black man there wasn’t one because the white girls had them."

Please read this Medium essay on Quincy Jones as well.

For Love of Ivy was seen as a huge milestone. It was  beautiful colors and box office business with black leads. Abbey Lincoln and Sidney Poitier's acting styles are noticeably different. Lincoln has trouble breaking through a gritty script. Poitier brings on so much strong charisma and dynacism, Sometimes Lincoln can match Poitier. Other occasions, they are greatly uneven. Still, there is no denying that the sight of black romance was a historic feat. 

Ivy chooses to leave with Jack. The white family supports this decision. Although saddened by Ivy's plight, they don't seem to regard her well being. Realistically, they should have screamed the outrageousness of being with this man readily eager to and up his business to feign. A man like that is no good man at all. For it to be a black man too is a more painful bruise. A black man eager to up himself on the expense of hurting a black woman with the white man's dime is not romantic, much less humorous.

Ivy sees Jack, this one man who had neglected full fledged honesty, as her window to opportunity. He had ran illegal operations, talked down at her, still retained many secrets. Overall, Jack is relatively a complete stranger despite their physical closeness, which isn't truest of intimacies. Ivy shouldn't have gone off with him. He manipulated her, coaxed her, hadn't truly proved himself worthy, especially of being a stickler in her next journey.

In the end, no one loved Ivy the way she deserved. Wouldn't it have been grand if Ivy held the ticket, the keys to her own driver's seat? That would have been the best start to a film in 1969-- the year before a decade of bonafide black power.