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This Film Reminds Me to Never Shrink Myself in Relationships
Twenty years after the release of ‘Disappearing Acts,’ a film critic reflects on what Black love means to her
I remember the first time my ex-boyfriend hit me. We were in the kitchen making dinner and arguing about whatever it is young couples in love argue about. I don’t recall the words exchanged, but I do know we were both upset, and then POP! A searing pain shot through the left side of my face. My boyfriend had slapped me. It was so quick, so surreal. It took me a few seconds to process what happened. I saw fear and regret in his eyes. He quickly apologized and hugged me. He whispered in my ear, “I’m so sorry, baby.” He made the empty promise that abusers make the first time they hurt their partners: “It will never happen again.”
Naive as I was, I forgave him, because I loved him. But it did happen. Again and again. The look of fear and contrition on his face soon disappeared. He became unrecognizable to me, cold and frightening. The abuse escalated. He slammed me against the wall and twisted my arm so hard that the pain made my breath turn into a quiet scream lodged in my throat. The open-handed slaps turned into punches that would land upon my body without warning or provocation. The apologies soon dried up, turning into blame. “You shouldn’t have made me so angry.”
And I believed it was my fault.
“I should be more supportive as he grieves the loss of his father,” I thought. I would make his favorite meals, do the laundry, keep the apartment tidy, doing anything and everything I could think of to appease him. But it didn’t matter. A fun evening together would quickly turn into me nursing a bruised cheek or a bloody lip alone in front of the bathroom mirror. I could barely look at my reflection because I was too ashamed of the bruised and battered woman who stared back.
In the midst of this abusive relationship, I came across the novel Disappearing Acts when I noticed numerous Black women reading it on the train during my daily commute to work in the city. I picked up a copy at my local bookstore and was immediately immersed in the world that author Terry McMillan crafted. I saw so much of myself and my then-boyfriend in Zora and Franklin. I…
