living on your shoes
Sunday, July 19th, 2009
One Saturday morning, while Michael Jackson’s passing intoxicates the whole world still, I woke up to my housemates watching a movie titled, Soul Man.
At first I thought it was a documentary about the King of Pop, but it turned out it was a 1986 romantic comedy film about a well-pampered Caucasian young man, named Mark, who learned that his father won’t support him thru his Harvard schooling anymore. So he decided to usurp the last slot for a scholarship exclusive for black students. He gobbled up tanning pills, darkening his skin tone. And the plan was all set together with his half-idiot best friend.
It was a hilarious film, too indulgent with goodie conversation, the punch lines are not as witty and sarcastic that is common in today’s entertainment, but it delivers pure fun and smart.
The focus of this blog entry is about the chat Mark and his professor as the movie coming to a close.
Mark, apologetic for his fraud—by usurping the scholarship, he displaced Sarah, the original student recipient off the list, forcing her to support herself and her little son while schooling—sold everything he owns to pay for the semester he took away from Sarah, he compromised to devout a percentage of his annual income once he graduated to the scholarship foundation, and he promised to do charity work.
The professor noted that Mark, however learned something his professor couldn’t teach, what it likes to be black and how it feels to be an outcast in society where one skin tone is dominant over others.
The professor commended Mark for what he experienced or what he understood.
Mark paused, looked into his professor and remarked that he wasn’t really sure if he understood what it means to be black guy. Because unlike real black people, he had an option that any moment he could always go back where he came from—that is to be a white man again.
