Wrongly Convicted From Birth
Yance Ford, trans brother of the late William Ford III, created an Academy Award nominated documentary film, now on Netflix, about his brother’s murder by a young white man. There are infinite threads in Strong Island, a surprisingly compelling film, surprising because the filming techniques are so rudimentary. How is it that a film that consists of old photos, talking heads and a brooding score can be so effective? Quite simply because of the intensity and integrity of the people telling the story, most of all William’s mother and Yance Ford himself. The Ford family, those who could and did participate, lived through a long, cruel and disillusioning process, the murder of a brother/son and the refusal of an all white grand jury to indict the killer, Mark Reilly. There’s an expression: a grand jury will indict a potato–the bar is very low. Apparently not when an African American has been killed. (This says nothing about the judicial biases in the cases against police shootings and the Treyvon Martin affair.)
The title of the film is a reference to both Long Island, where the family lived in a black middle class enclave, and the state of Yance Ford as she makes the film. Paul Simon’s refrain: “I am a rock; I am an island” came to mind. “The rock feels no pain” but Yance Ford still does. I am guessing “the island” consists of being both black and trans; the “strong” is his pride.
I grew up on Long Island in the 50’s and 60’s and remember well the conditions of life for African Americans at the time. The women generally worked as maids in white middle class homes and their families lived in areas where the access to those homes was close enough by bus. The buses themselves were utilized by the poor working class and by kids who had yet to get their drivers’ licenses. Strong Island made me see that nothing fundamental has changed in segregated communities throughout Long Island and throughout America. Many African American men were and are, even now, more marginalized, although Yance’s father, a transit worker, did have a good job. When Yance answers questions about his views of white people, he says they are all the same to him. He sees them as they see him: indistinguishable and capable of any outrage. In America, when push comes to shove, white people (a grand jury of 23 white people) will often side with their own.
The Ford family were “respectable” middle class people–Mom was a school principal who eventually started her own school at Rikers Island prison, filled with–guess who–African Americans. She dies as the film ends, as did the father during the making of the film. The family is destroyed by one single terrible incident, the useless killing of the eldest son. It is still the case that black families are forced to live in particular areas that become like prisons: if you travel out of your enclave, you are viewed with suspicion. The Fords lived in Islip, a place that now also contains a disproportionate Hispanic population. I think the word ghetto applies to these areas, although the word has had a slight change meaning over time. To say “ghetto” now refers to a culture, a black subculture, associated with criminality and certain types of fashion. The idea of a ghetto as a place where a minority (the Jews of Venice, for example) are forced to live is no less true now, even if we fail to notice. While the Jewish communities were ghettoized by law, African Americans, even those with financial resources, are prevented from living in white areas (so called by realtors, red lining) and a free floating animus they feel every single day. In some ways, Ford’s depiction of white people speaks to this habitual mutual disregard. The danger, of course, is dehumanization; a grand jury refuses to indict because William Ford is less than human. Had Ford shot Reilly, we know what would have happened.
I grew up in Rockville Centre, Long Island, where Floyd Patterson, the heavyweight champion back in the 1950’s, had the temerity to purchase a house. The story has it that a cross was burned on Patterson’s lawn and that he and his family moved to Lakeview, the then black enclave attached to Rockville Centre. New York can claim all it wants that it’s a “liberal” state but you wouldn’t know it to look at the segregated public school system in New York City.
Strong Island confronts Americans with the truth about their country. The story is told in an uncompromising and clear sighted way. No sentimentality–no Green Book–clouds the vision. The only thing a viewer can do to avoid the truth is look away. And isn’t that what’s happening?