Editorials
The Hidden Curriculum: Microaggressions and Resistance in ‘MASTER’ (2022)
“You can’t get away from it Jasmine. It’ll follow you, believe me, I know.”
If there’s anything more certain than the sun, it’s the irreverent notion that a person of color is not only not qualified, but they should also feel lucky to be within the spaces they reside when “allowed”.
As of late, during this tumultuous election year, we’ve gotten used to (not really) the term “diversity hire”. In the 80s, it was the great disdain for Affirmative Action acts from the 60s. In the 50s, it was the civil rights movement. We’re 30 years shy of a century of oppression, adversity and undertow in academic institutions, and it permeates everything we can possibly think to be involved in, appointed to or admired for. In the 2022 film Master by Mariama Diallo, we explore cultural depth and neverending societal issues with race, microaggressions, and othering in the academic world.
The film opens with Gail Bishop (Regina Hall), the first Black Master of House at Ancaster University, a predominantly white collegiate atmosphere that’s almost as old as the country. She works to settle in as best she can in a home rife with pictures of old white men and cookie jars in the shape of derogatory Black effigies, but we’ll get to that later. At the same time, an eager and hopeful Jasmine Moore (Zoe Renee) arrives at Ancaster. Jasmine is given her assignment, room 302, the haunted room. Oooooh!
Well, she’s not even told that it’s haunted. It’s alluded to quite haughtily by the Welcome Crew.
It’s a shame the steep spiral downward in trauma this film takes because these experiences, save for most of the supernatural pieces, are true to life. The wonder of starting new, being a part of something that sparks joy. Being the first Black anything academically is always seen as a how-did-they-get-that-couldn’t-be-because-they’ve-earned-it, and it’s a mountain on top of a mountain. For Jasmine and Gail, the hike is just beginning.
A Live One:
Jasmine takes to the haunted room, and realizes, quite startlingly, that she has a roommate, Amelia (Talia Ryder). Amelia and Jasmine hit it off nicely when it’s just the two of them, but when they are joined by Amelia’s more affluent, more snotty (and also white) friends Cressida (Ella Hunt) and Katie (Noa Fisher), the tables turn out of Jasmine’s favor. She’s constantly interrupted when she shares her own stories in order for them to tell their own. She is picked on, cornered, and subjected to soft-handed bullying at the hands of these girls’ possible paramours as well. It’s a common situation for any person of color in a predominantly white space. The period of adjustment takes longer because the goalposts keep changing. And the game of making you and keeping you ill-adjusted is an ongoing sport.
Now, the haunted room theory permeates Jasmine’s waning emotional and mental state as she begins to have hellish nightmares: losing time, waking up believing she’s being attacked by an entity or treated like a specimen to be studied. Jasmine uncovers the death of the first Black student who resided in that room, and from that point on, the thinly veiled and petty racist cracks become less subdued.
Jasmine’s struggles with belonging and the doubt of her aptitude begin externally. A valedictorian, a brilliant mind, and a bubbly personality squashed into a shell of Blackness. The Black lunch staff is all smiles with the white students but when Jasmine comes through the line, she’s treated brusquely, silently as if to say, you think you’re something special by being on that side of the aisle. It’s such a visceral scene because society has made its perpetuated caste system for so long, there’s bound to be some internal issues that folks struggle with. Sometimes it causes anger, jealousy or shame. In this scene, it’s a mix of it all and cuts deep in less than 120 seconds.
In light of being a suspect, she’s investigated when an alarm sensor goes off in the library. When it’s revealed that Jasmine has nothing belonging to the library, the urge is to check her bag. The accusatory tone of the librarian and the growing crowd behind her only adds to the humiliation. Guilty until proven innocent. During a class with the only other person of color, her instructor, Dr. Liv Beckham, discussed color usage in The Scarlet Letter. Jasmine believes that using the color white so often points to Hester’s daughter Pearl’s innocence, but you can tell she wants to dive deeper than that – much deeper. When white student Cressida chimes up that the white points to white people of that time and their ignorance and disdain for color or non-conforming women. Listen.
I know many people of color who viewed this film and felt everything Jasmine’s body language was showing. For real, Cressida?! If that statement had come out of Jasmine’s mouth, would she be seen as the angry Black woman? The race card thrower? The reverse racist? Surely, and not as the wise, forward-thinking, woke, and diversity-first crown-wearer like Cressida gets to be. And there’s another rub. Don’t be too smart, don’t be too confrontational, don’t question the system.
When Jasmine confronts Liv for giving her a poor grade in class and praising the white students, Liv construes that Jasmine was from an “inner city, poor graded school, things work differently here”. Jasmine has to fight to tell her she’s not a hard knock case, she’s from the suburbs, AND she was the valedictorian, to which Liv is like oh gee wilickers I didn’t know. The casual assumptions about her intelligence and background, especially from Liv, sting, in the same ways the attitudes from the lunch crew stung. Jasmine’s experience is compounded by the ingrained and institutional barriers that exist for Black and Brown students. She’s constantly having to prove herself academically and socially, play maid and errand runner, and in a coup de grace to further distance and isolate her from her roommate, she’s made into a pawn as Amelia’s crush. Tyler (Will Hochman) begins to flirt and make out with Jasmine in a “how scandalous is it that I’m hooking up with the Black girl” way, because that’s a scandal ‘round his parts! Extensive spiritual sigh.
She’s constantly reminded that she doesn’t belong and is some sort of bone of contention for many members of the school and faculty. It’s almost as if, even though all of our barrier-breaking, that these spaces are not designed for us to succeed, much like corporate and government spaces; the navigation of personal and racial bias has you exhausted before you even end your workday.
And Nothing Ever Changes:
Gail’s situation is less nuanced and much heavier in the “you should feel incredibly lucky we’ve decided to let you do this” vibe. There is not a person of color out there in an academic, corporate, or government setting (and let’s go further, a friend group) where they didn’t feel tokenized or like a box tick. As a tenured professor, Gail Bishop represents the more mature side of this coin for Black women in academia. Despite all her successes, she’s constantly countermanded and undermined, not to mention low-key chided by her colleagues with comments like, “Should we call her Obama?”. The microaggressions are more serrated for her, especially when her all-white board – mirroring Jasmine’s all-white “friend” group – cast doubt on her professional merit and her ability to be impartial when faced with a serious situation regarding another professor of color. She’s deemed unqualified and unsuited for the prestigious gift they’ve given her. It’s this type of structural inequity and institutional racism, not to mention gross lack of cultural awareness on the part of predominantly white institutions that create this caustic and hostile environment where stereotyping and discrimination often impact promotions, tenure opportunity and space for new Black and Brown professors. Is Gail as secure as she thinks she is? All signs point to no with conditions.
Despite all of her glossy ideals and sense of friendship and availability with her student, the lion’s share of the faculty at Ancaster have deep-seated racial bias that’s imbruing on the school through Jasmine and Gail’s experiences and not only are they none the wiser – they don’t seem fussed enough to care. When Jasmine is overcome by visions, nightmares, and just enough racism to push her over the edge and out of a window, Gail tells a recovering Jasmine not to let them drag her down. Fight.
“You can’t get away from it Jasmine. It’ll follow you, believe me, I know.”
Advice Gail should heed herself. As that tension between her and the faculty escalates after poor Jasmine’s suicide, Gail knows that even though they create shiny diversity programs and exude a semblance of a beacon for marginalized academics, they don’t truly care for Black or Brown students. The microscope will always be at full magnification, the scrutiny and judgment on eleven and the bias, sky high. Our experiences, knowledge, achievements, and mental prowess will always be viewed through a lens of skepticism.
By the end, Gail knows that she is merely that token, that box tick to get things done and having the public ignore their racist ways as long as a Black patsy is standing at the front of the line to prove they don’t see color. Nothing is ever going to change. Not for her, not for any other student of color, ever.
Diallo’s film was released with mixed reviews, and I understand it’s a polarizing film. It’s a stark look at what it’s like to be a Black woman in higher education, and I don’t think people were ready for the “Are we the baddies?” conversation. Thinking back to my college days, I was met with millions of microaggressions at the time that I didn’t know weren’t just part of life. Majoring in Business, we were asked to make a business plan for a business we’d like to create someday. I chose a bookstore/record shop, basically a small-town Borders. When I presented it to my professor I was met with, and I quote, “Oh wow! I was expecting like a hair salon, weaves and nails and stuff.” Hmm. Even having the highest GPA in the course, I was constantly asked to further cite my sources as the reports were “just a little too clean”, something my white counterparts were never asked to do.
It’s hell representing yourself and all you’ve accomplished, and in just a few months, that light is dulled, diminished, and, in Jasmine’s case, snuffed out far too soon.
Master’s prestigious Ancaster is more than just a setting, it’s a symbol of a broader societal issue with race, privilege, and power. Black and Brown academics are devalued by design. It’s a vacuumed microcosm of a society that promotes diversity and meritocracy, all the while creating and perpetuating systemic barriers that prevent Black and Brown groups from thriving without mobilizing or leaving all together. Master keenly explores how microaggressions add up. Assumptions about intelligence, qualifications or the capacity to succeed, reveal a deep unspoken bias that infiltrates marginalized women beyond the classroom.
Horror Press’ exploration of catharsis this month lends itself naturally to the topic of satisfying horror movie deaths. While murdering people who vex you in real life is rightly frowned upon, horror allows us to explore our darker sides. Fiction gives us the catharsis and relief to allow us to survive that ineradicable pox that is other people. To that end, here are the 10 most satisfying deaths in horror movies.
PS: It goes without saying that this article contains a few SPOILERS.
The 10 Most Satisfying Deaths in Horror Movies
#10 Franklin, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre
I ranked this death from the original Texas Chain Saw Massacre lowest for two reasons. First, I think Franklin’s whole vibe is a perfect fit for the unnerving, overwhelming atmosphere of Tobe Hooper’s masterpiece. Second, I think it’s important for representation that onscreen characters from marginalized groups be allowed to have flaws. That said, Franklin Hardesty is one of the most goddamn annoying characters in the history of cinema. Endless shrieking and raspberry-blowing will do that for ya. His death via chainsaw comes as a profound relief. His sister Sally spends the next 40 minutes or so screaming nonstop, and that’s considerably more peaceful.
#9 Lori, Happy Death Day
This is less about the character herself and more about Tree’s journey. After watching her time-loop for so long, being thwarted at every turn, Lori’s poison cupcake is a real gut-punch. Tree’s vengeance allows her to break out of the time loop once and for all (until the sequel). It also allows us to rejoice in the fact that her work to improve herself hasn’t been for naught.
#8 Billy, Scream (1996)
There are a hell of a lot of satisfying kills perpetrated upon Ghostfaces in the Scream franchise. However, the original still takes the cake. Sidney Prescott curtly refuses to allow a killer to plug a sequel at the end of her survival story. Instead, she plugs him in the head, saying, “Not in my movie.” It’s not just a great ending to a horror movie. It’s a big middle finger to sleazy teenage boyfriends the world over.
#7 Crispian, You’re Next
Ooh, when Erin finds out that this rotten man has knowingly brought her along to a home invasion… His attempt to charm (and bribe) her might have won over a weaker person. But in addition to putting her in danger, he has willingly had his family slaughtered for money. Erin won’t stand for that, and her takedown of yet another Toxic Horror Boyfriend is cause for celebration.
#6 Charles, Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan
Charles McCulloch might be one of the nastiest characters in film history. While school administrators are hardly any student’s best friend, his cold cruelty is downright abnormal. How he manages to be simultaneously overbearing and wicked to his niece, Rennie, I’ll never know. But thankfully, Jason Voorhees drowns him in a vat of toxic waste, removing the need to solve that mystery. Not all heroes wear capes. Sometimes they wear hockey masks.
#5 Tyler, The Menu
Up next on the tasting tray of cinema’s worst boyfriends, we have Tyler. He’s not technically Margot’s boyfriend, because she’s an escort he invited to a fancy dinner. But he should still land in the hall of fame. That’s because he brought her despite knowing ahead of time that nobody was meant to leave the restaurant alive. Thankfully, he gets one of the best Bad Boyfriend deaths of them all. He dies at his own hands. By hanging. After being thoroughly humiliated with proof that all the mansplaining in the world can’t make someone a good chef. Delectable.
#4 The Baby, Immaculate
You may remember this kill from my Top 10 Child Deaths article. The ending of Immaculate is (there’s no other word for it) immaculate. Shortly after Sister Cecilia learns that she has been unwillingly impregnated with the son of Christ, she gives birth. Instead of letting the church manipulate her further after violating her body, she smashes that godforsaken thing with a rock. In the process, she sheds years of ingrained doctrine and sets herself free once and for all. This is the ending that Antichrist movies have historically been too cowardly to give us. The fact that this character is a potential messiah makes it that much more cathartic.
#3 Carter, The Final Destination
I mean, come on. This guy is literally credited as “Racist” at the end of the movie. Pretty much every Final Destination movie has an asshole character who you crave to see die. But this epithet-spewing, cross-burning bigot is by far the worst of the bunch.
#2 Dean, Get Out
Racism comes in many forms, as Jordan Peele’s Get Out highlights. The Armitage family’s microaggressions quickly become macroaggressions, more than justifying Chris’ revenge slayings. While this whole portion of the movie is immensely satisfying, Dean’s death might just be the most cathartic. This is because he is killed via the antlers of a stuffed deer head. Chris uses the family’s penchant for laying claim to their prey’s bodies against them with this perfectly violent metaphor.
#1 Adrian, The Invisible Man (2020)
Here we have the final boss of Toxic Horror Boyfriends. This man is so heinously abusive that he fakes his own death in order to torment his ex even more. Cee using his own invisibility suit against him to stage his death by suicide is perfectly fitting revenge.
I was late to the Radio Silence party. However, I do not let that stop me from being one of the loudest people at the function now. I randomly decided to see Ready or Not in theaters one afternoon in 2019 and walked out a better person for it. The movie introduced me to the work of a team that would become some of my favorite current filmmakers. It also confirmed that getting married is the worst thing one can do. That felt very validating as someone who doesn’t buy into the needing to be married to be complete narrative.
Ready or Not is about a fucked up family with a fucked up tradition. The unassuming Grace (Samara Weaving) thinks her new in-laws are a bit weird. However, she’s blinded by love on her wedding day. She would never suspect that her groom, Alex (Mark O’Brien), would lead her into a deadly wedding night. So, she heads downstairs to play a game with the family, not knowing that they will be hunting her this evening. This is one of the many ways I am different from Grace. I watch enough of the news to know the husband should be the prime suspect, and I have been around long enough to know men are the worst. I also have a commitment phobia, so the idea of walking down the aisle gives me anxiety.
Grace Under Fire
Ready or Not is a horror comedy set on a wealthy family’s estate that got overshadowed by Knives Out. I have gone on record multiple times saying it’s the better movie. Sadly, because it has fewer actors who are household names, people are not ready to have that conversation. However, I’m taking up space this month to talk about catharsis, so let me get back on track. One of the many ways this movie is better than the latter is because of that sweet catharsis awaiting us at the end.
This movie puts Grace through it and then some. Weaving easily makes her one of the easiest final girls to root for over a decade too. From finding out the man she loves has betrayed her, to having to fight off the in-laws trying to kill her, as she is suddenly forced to fight to survive her wedding night. No one can say that Grace doesn’t earn that cigarette at the end of the film. As she sits on the stairs covered in the blood of what was supposed to be her new family, she is a relatable icon. As the unseen cop asks what happened to her, she simply says, “In-laws.” It’s a quick laugh before the credits roll, and “Love Me Tender” by Stereo Jane makes us dance and giggle in our seats.
Ready or Not Proves That Maybe She’s Better Off Alone
It is also a moment in which Grace is one of many women who survives marriage. She comes out of the other side beaten but not broken. Grace finally put herself, and her needs first, and can breathe again in a way she hasn’t since saying I do. She fought kids, her parents-in-law, and even her husband to escape with her life. She refused to be a victim, and with that cigarette, she is finally free and safe. Grace is back to being single, and that’s clearly for the best.
This Guy Busick and R. Christopher Murphy script is funny on the surface, even before you start digging into the subtext. The fact that Ready or Not is a movie where the happy ending is a woman being left alone is not wasted on me, though. While Grace thought being married would make her happy, she now has physical and emotional wounds to remind her that it’s okay to be alone.
One of the things I love about this current era of Radio Silence films is that the women in these projects are not the perfect victims. Whether it’s Ready or Not, Abigail, or Scream (2022), or Scream VI, the girls are fighting. They want to live, they are smart and resourceful, and they know that no one is coming to help them. That’s why I get excited whenever I see Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett’s names appear next to a Guy Busick co-written script. Those three have cracked the code to give us women protagonists that are badasses, and often more dangerous than their would-be killers when push comes to shove.
Ready or Not Proves That Commitment is Scarier Than Death
So, watching Grace run around this creepy family’s estate in her wedding dress is a vision. It’s also very much the opposite of what we expect when we see a bride. Wedding days are supposed to be champagne, friends, family, and trying to buy into the societal notion that being married is what we’re supposed to aspire to as AFABs. They start programming us pretty early that we have to learn to cook to feed future husbands and children.
The traditions of being given away by our fathers, and taking our husbands’ last name, are outdated patriarchal nonsense. Let’s not even get started on how some guys still ask for a woman’s father’s permission to propose. These practices tell us that we are not real people so much as pawns men pass off to each other. These are things that cause me to hyperventilate a little when people try to talk to me about settling down.
Marriage Ain’t For Everybody
I have a lot of beef with marriage propaganda. That’s why Ready or Not speaks to me on a bunch of levels that I find surprising and fresh. Most movies would have forced Grace and Alex to make up at the end to continue selling the idea that heterosexual romance is always the answer. Even in horror, the concept that “love will save the day” is shoved at us (glares at The Conjuring Universe). So, it’s cool to see a movie that understands women can be enough on their own. We don’t need a man to complete us, and most of the time, men do lead to more problems. While I am no longer a part-time smoker, I find myself inhaling and exhaling as Grace takes that puff at the end of the film. As a woman who loves being alone, it’s awesome to be seen this way.
The Cigarette of Singledom
We don’t need movies to validate our life choices. However, it’s nice to be acknowledged every so often. If for no other reason than to break up the routine. I’m so tired of seeing movies that feel like a guy and a girl making it work, no matter the odds, is admirable. Sometimes people are better when they separate, and sometimes divorce saves lives. So, I salute Grace and her cathartic cigarette at the end of her bloody ordeal.
I cannot wait to see what single shenanigans she gets into in Ready or Not 2: Here I Come. I personally hope she inherited that money from the dead in-laws who tried her. She deserves to live her best single girl life on a beach somewhere. Grace’s marriage was a short one, but she learned a lot. She survived it, came out the other side stronger, richer, and knowing that marriage isn’t for everybody.
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