Queen and Slim — Nobody’s Ride or Die

BY CAMPBELL ADDY/UNIVERSAL.

Many spent their Valentine’s day holding hands with their significant other, clandestine meetings and fine dining in dimly lit restaurants. I, on the other hand, was at MacDonald’s, my hands gesticulating with vim whilst deforming my Big Mac in the process, ranting to my friends about the film we had just watched,’ Queen and Slim’. The lyrics of VickeeLo’s intro in the soundtrack for the film ricocheted through my head: “If his name on it, then mine right beside it/ Real f — king ride or die.” What does that even mean? In this article, I will be discussing the concepts of “ride or die” and ‘struggle love’ that have formulated the perception of love within the black community.

For the sake of clarity, it’s best that I bring you up to speed. ‘Queen and Slim’ is a romantic crime drama and the brainchild of two talented women: Melina Matsoukas, the director, and Lena Waithe, the screenwriter. The film takes a wicked turn after a criminal defence attorney, Queen, finds herself sitting awkwardly across her date, Slim in a black-owned Ohio diner. The film stars accredited actors, Jodie-Smith Turner and Daniel Kaluuya who play two dark skin love interests. Additionally, they are alleged fugitives fleeing the crime scene after shooting a white police officer in self-defence. This spirals into a plot that is readily compared to the story of Bonnie and Clyde on two fronts: the fugitive storyline and the unrelenting devotion of the female protagonist. Uncle Earl, Queen’s relative, greets his niece with “ Ooh, well, if ain’t the black Bonnie and Clyde.” This comparison, no matter how compelling it is to make, is not apt. Bonnie and Clyde were hardened criminals who fled justice. Conversely, Queen and Slim are individuals who have been criminalised by the very same justice system that is meant to protect them. It places a bounty on their head ,not for the gravity of their action, but for the colour of their skin- where being black is inherently criminal. This is evident when Slim is insistent that “I’m not a criminal’’ after he shot the police officer.

“Conversely, Queen and Slim are individuals who have been criminalised by the very same justice system that is meant to protect them”

The second justification for the comparison to the historical duo is the steadfast devotion of the female protagonist played by Jodie-Smith Turner. Within the black community, she was hailed as “ ride or die” which is a term that positions one at the zenith of loyalty. This concept is a neologism referring to extreme allegiance to someone, an expression that originated within hip hop discourse which later diffused into the larger protocol of romantic relationships within the black community. Essence magazine was quick to dub the film as the “ black love story we needed.” I scoffed at such high praise that was awarded to the on-screen couple and the romanticisation of their luke-warm relationship. I mentally flick back to all the scenes that characterised their relationship and the recurring image was Queen’s body as the site of trauma: she was shot in the leg by the police officer; she dislocated her shoulder in an attempt to escape from the police and her life was eventually cut short as bullets perforated her body, soaking her print dress with her blood. Before her horrific death she asks Slim if she could be his “legacy”. Whilst this raised dramatic sighs and ‘awws’ from the audience, my lip curled in disgust. I wanted their newly discovered feelings to be explored not immortalised in blood, gore and trending hashtags. Even their sex scene was interlaced with cut- scenes from a violent protest. I am fully aware that it is only fair to criticise a movie based on the ending that the directors intended and not my fantasised alternate ending. However, I could not help but wonder where her roses were; if there would a symphony playing in the background when they eventually have sex just like the conventional movies with white leads. Are black women not afforded that kind of luxury? Is this the epitome of black love for Essence magazine? Do black women have to be beaten, shot, and die as the offering of love?

“I wanted their newly discovered feelings to be explored not immortalised in blood, gore and trending hashtags.”

Don’t get me wrong, it was heart-warming to see two dark skinned actors, who are unapologetically black, on the big screen. My friends raised their hands in triumph citing that their desire of seeing a dark-hued couple has been fulfilled but I asked myself ‘ to what end?’ The couple had no form of electric chemistry, they were glaringly incompatible as she was reserved and particular about eating habits which contrasted against the smacking of Slim’s lips as he devoured fast food. They were not in love, just merely bound by extreme circumstances.

The plight of black people has been widely studied as research and political commentary point fingers at various structural reasons such as racist policies, the inter-generational effects of slavery and colonialism. These factors all hold weight but perhaps we have internalised our long history with struggle and hardship that it has inadvertently reproduced itself in our relationships. If we look closely at black pop culture, Lil Kim was lauded for being a ‘ride or die’ chick after she was incarcerated for perjury regarding a shooting or Nicki Minaj publicly defending her husband, a convicted sex offender and murderer, at the expense of her brand image. Even our very own pop culture royalty, Beyoncé, does not shy away from the ‘ride or die’ trope. Her 2016 album entitled Lemonade, which was autobiographical in nature, narrated the story of a strong black woman navigating the hardships and infidelity that her marriage was fraught with. In one of the songs from the album, All night, she sings “ My torturer became my remedy.” Why is our language about love coated with the rhetoric of suffering and pain?

In contrast, her husband’s album, entitled ‘4:44’ takes charge of his narrative and frames his transgressions as a necessary evil to reach the destination that is growth. It makes me question who this ‘ride or die’ narrative truly applies to. According to the Office for National statistics, women petitioning for divorce on the grounds of infidelity has decreased by 43% since 1996. Whereas, the number of men who file for divorce for the same reason has increased by a third. Is ‘ride or die’ just another concept that is imposed on women to elicit submission and meekness? I never doubted it. In an essay written by Ijeoma Oluo, she explains that “We are the women expected to never air out grievances in public. We are the women expected to stay loyal to our men by staying silent though abuse and infidelity. We are women who clean the blood of our men and boys from the streets. We are the women who gather their belongings from the police station.” So what do Queen and Beyoncé have in common? Well, they are expected to be there, willing to be collateral damage but with no surety that it would ever be reciprocated.

“Why is our language about love coated with the rhetoric of suffering and pain?”

Jodie Turner-Smith received a lot of vitriol when news surfaced that she is happily married to Joshua Jackson , an actor who happens to be white and financially well-off, the antithesis of everything her on-screen interest represented. What made people so mad? How dare she marry someone that is in the same tax bracket as her when her character was an accredited attorney who fell for a shoe salesman? How dare she not appear to struggle and offer the same sacrifice that Queen offered in a show of her devotion to Slim? How dare she attempt to enjoy the same luxury that is afforded her white counterparts when it comes to relationships? Black women, especially darker skinned women, are always portrayed as a ‘struggle love’ or ‘ride or die’ stock character. Think back to every single didactic Tyler Perry film that your parents made you watch: the financially well-off black woman who suffers in the hands of rich men until she meets the love of her life ,who hails from the rough side of town, but is relatively nice and tasks himself with ‘humbling’ her. There is usually a tablespoon worth of cheating involved or perhaps a sprinkle of domestic violence. The female protagonist tends to have two choices: enduring a loveless relationship with her wealthy partner or ‘riding it out’ with her broke but well-meaning love interest. The common denominator being the absence of a real happy ending that is not shackled to some condition or some sub-clause. If you’re like Queen, you probably would have sacrificed your career, reputation and life to experience something akin to love.

Let’s bring these far-flung concepts closer to home, shall we? May we have a moment of silence for all your mothers and grandmothers who wept with tight lips during their marriages; who endured because staying till the end was not merely a choice rather it was a destination. Shall we cusp our hands in prayer for the mothers who turned a blind eye to their husbands’ transgressions all in the name of “ at least, I’m still a married woman.” Beyoncé confides in her listeners, “this expectation of black women to suffer in silence is passing from generation to generation.” It is on this note that we shall now say the grace as we rejoice that women in today’s society no longer aspire to be like your mothers, grandmothers, Lil Kims, Nicki Minajs or the Queens of their time.

We are no one’s sacrifice; we are no one’s ride or die.

Written by Maro Anita Okiti.