The night of the Academy Awards, I sat here in my home knowing I could never watch the movie 12 Years a Slave. I am certain it is amazing, but ever since I saw Kunta Kinte whipped on the mini-series Roots when I was just a kid, such depictions have left me mentally and emotionally marked for months afterwards.
As I've gotten older, I have tolerated scenes such as LeVar Burton portrayed all those years ago, but only to witness a beautiful piece of cinemagraphic excellence ala Denzel Washington in his Oscar-winning turn with Glory. Washington's scene is one of my all-time favorite acting moments. When that tear runs down his face...every time, I think, "That is the moment he won the Oscar." That was also my thought the first time I saw it...pre-win.
Yet, I haven't watched Glory in nearly a decade. As God has drawn my heart nearer to His, there have been many things I just can't stomach to watch....literally...I get nauseous. Whipping anyone, particularly an African American individual, is one such scenario.
So while I have no doubt that Steve McQueen's 12 Years a Slave is wonderful and worthy of all of its accolades, I have known since its premiere that I could never watch it. That evening in March when it won the top prize for U.S. movies, I curiously pulled up the book on Amazon and was thrilled to buy it in an e-format for only $0.99. I thought that reading it might be more appropriate for me than seeing it.
I was right.
The book is well written and leaves no doubt as to the horrid life as a slave. Yet this is done in a way that is respectful and acknowledges Northrup's conundrum. He could have given the gory details, but they are so horrific, people would have thought him sensationalizing his account. He frequently admits to sparing the reader the full truth.
There are some things for which there are no words.
If I could, I would thank Steve McQueen and his production team that brought this book to life...if only to draw attention to an autobiography that should be read in education circles as much, if not more than, Uncle Tom's Cabin. As I read through the firsthand account of Northrup's ordeal, I couldn't help but think that only in the U.S., could a fictional account (loosely based on secondhand information), written by a Northern white woman (Harriet Beecher Stowe), be given more credence for bringing about the end of slavery than an actual account of a free black man being kidnapped and forced into slavery for twelve years...and they were published only one year apart. I have tried to read Uncle Tom's Cabin and still hope to one day, but the language is difficult to wade through. Northrup's account is so well-written, you can tell he was an educated man and had a voice that needed to be heard.
Over 150 years later...he still should be heard...to honor all of those who were never given a voice.
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