by Jennifer Roberts

I prioritized seeing “Till” on Friday, October 28^th, the day that it opened nationwide.  I even rescheduled an important doctor’s appointment to ensure that I would be able to support this movie on opening weekend.

I invited a group of moms to go with me but only one could make it.  There we sat together mid-day in the theatre with a handful of other people.  I wanted to see “Till” for several reasons.  Firstly, I am passionate about learning about American history from an African American perspective and secondly,  I was screening the movie to see if it my two children could see it.

I am very familiar with the kidnapping and heinous murder of 14-year-old Emmett Lewis Till in Money, Mississippi, in August 1955.  I have read about Emmett’s murder for years, seen the pictures of his swollen, mutilated body, many times, watched, discussed and blogged about ABC’s mini-series, “Women of the Movement,” which elevated the bravery and significance of Emmett’s mother, Mamie Bradley and I’ve taught my children about Emmett Till wand why his life and murder are still of the utmost importance nearly 70 years later.

I was eager to see “Till” from the moment I saw the previews this summer.  My anticipation was only heightened when I watched part of the cast and the director, interviewed earlier this month on “The View.” 

Like so many other movies like, “A Time to Kill,” “Men of Honor,” “Something the Lord Made,”  “12 Years a Slave, ”“The Banker,” “Selma,”  and “The Best of Enemies,” “Till” is an invitation for Americans to look at American history with open, honest eyes, to understand American history and to decide how they want to show up in the world today.  It is an opportunity to sit with not just the horrors of racism but also the generational impact that racism has on our humanity and on families.

“Till” is a beautifully layered movie.  At its base is the history of Emmett’s life with his mother in Chicago followed by his kidnapping from his extended family’s home in the deep South during Jim Crow.  As the story unfolds, viewers learn how this child was brutally beaten, mutilated, murdered and drowned.  The ugliness of these heinous acts committed by two White supremacists and supported by a racist system are juxtaposed against the beautiful, unbreakable bond of a mother and son. 

“Till” also shows how even during the vilest tragedy how the African American community supported not only Ms. Bradley but elevated her personal tragedy to illuminate the subjugation of every Black American. 

Because I am very familiar with the abuse of  African Americans during Jim Crow and the details surrounding Emmett Till’s kidnapping and murder, there were no surprises in the story line. And while the director and crew took some creative license as expected, the movie is factual.  As promised, there was no violence against Black people shown on screen, however there are several scenes that unapologetically show Emmett’s swollen, mutilated body, images that a viewer cannot unsee. I think that similarly to Ms. Bradley’s rationale for allowing the images of Emmett’s body to be published in Jet Magazine and for having an open casket at Emmett’s funeral, the director of this movie wanted moviegoers to not only see but to sit with the barbaric, inhumane manner in which 14-year-old Emmett was treated and consider the system that would allow a child to be murdered.

I felt joy and pain while watching this movie.  Every time Mamie Bradley lovingly gazed at her only son, I felt her love.  Every time that she feared for his life, I understood her fear.  I felt these emotions deeply because I too, have a son.  Any mother who has every loved her child will feel the love that Ms. Bradley had for Emmett but as a Black mother, there is a depth of love and visceral, protective instinct that may be unfamiliar to other people.

Black mothers understand that while we see our children as beautiful, wondrous, capable and worthy,  we are preparing them to live in a racist country which refuses to see them this way.  Black mothers recognize that while we know the beauty of our sons and the unique gifts that they possess, the world in which we live was not built for them and rejects their presence, their personhood, and their gifts. But the systems don’t stop there; the systems seek to emasculate and annihilate them. 

As a mother of a Black son, I understood so well Ms. Bradley’s need to tell her attorney, Mr. Hough that Emmett was “a perfect baby.”  I held back tears when Ms. Bradley gave her testimony in court about how she knew that the body that had been mercilessly violated and murdered was her son. 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt like I was on a witness stand testifying about my son and my son is alive. That many Black mothers remain in a constant state of defending our children against crimes that they haven’t committed reflects the systemic oppression that Black people continue to endure. 

Every Black mother who has ever sat in a parent teacher conference advocating for her child is battling a case.  Every Black mother who has ever sat in an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meeting advocating to make sure that her child got the accommodations that he needed is battling a case.  Every Black mother who has appealed a school decision for suspension is battling a case.  Black mothers should not have to explain or defend our children’s existence, their size, their speech or their gifts, but we do it every single day. We do it in resistance to the broken systems in which we live because we know that the possibility exists that our sons will not be treated fairly. 

One of the most heartbreaking lines in the movie is when Mamie Bradley is mentally preparing her son to go to Mississippi and she tells him, “They have a different set of rules down there… Are you listening?  You have to be extra careful with White people; you can’t risk looking at them the wrong way.  Bo, be small down there.”

“It’s that last line, “Bo, be small down there,” that makes my breath catch in my throat.

Too many Black mothers (and fathers too)  are having versions of this conversation with their sons in 2022.  Whether it’s preparing them to ride the school bus, preparing them to go to school, preparing them to hang out with friends or preparing them to drive a car, many Black parents are encouraging their children to be small as a way to shield them against racism and to and to give them a better chance of returning home alive.  Parents might not use those exact words, but the sentiment is the same.  In modern times, the advice might sound like, “Keep your head down.  Do what you are supposed to do.  Don’t be too loud.  Don’t play around.  Don’t give the bus driver/ teacher/ police officer any reason to notice you.”  In other words, “Be small.”

I weep for our Black children today, especially our Black boys. My heart breaks because they are still navigating the same racist systems that killed Emmett Till 67 years ago. I won’t be taking my children to see the movie because of the searing visual images. However, I have taught them the history and I will continue to do so. I do plan to watch it with them when they are older.

I hope that as moviegoers watch this film, they will accept the open invitation to continue the conversation about racism and that they will choose to be anti-racists.  I hope that moviegoers, regardless of race, see themselves, their children, their co-workers and neighbors in this movie and they choose to be informed citizens about American history and its connection to modern times.  I hope that this movie is a springboard for much needed reflection and change in all facets of American life.