The Oprah Winfrey-produced movie, "Precious," which recently opened to ecstatic reviews, tells the story of a poor, abused, illiterate, and overweight African-American teen. Rarely has American popular culture bothered to fully humanize a young woman on the forgotten edges of the American experience -- or courageously unearth the injuries of spirit and body done to so many vulnerable African-American girls. By the movie's final scene, when this resilient young woman walks down the street with a child on each hip, she cannot be dismissed or disdained by the audience as another throwaway teen mother. She really is precious, refusing to be cut down by the violence of an abusive mother and a father who routinely raped her.
Despite that, I see a real danger in the telling of Precious' story, because it is too easy to compartmentalize this narrative as a movie about impoverished, dysfunctional black folks -- as if the horrible incidents of rape and incest are just more examples of urban Black America's pathologies, like hip hop and gang banging. The way the movie plays off entrenched and racialized stereotypes reinforces that perception. Precious' mother is an extension of the notorious welfare queen who exploits her children for the next check. Her father, flashed onto the screen against the backdrop of pigs' feet boiling on the stove, grossly fulfills the sexual predator imagery long attached to black men. Most disturbingly, all of the characters who love Precious and seek to rescue her are either light or white-skinned.
But as someone who works with at-risk women and girls, I know the reality is that there are too many white, rural, and middle class girls who are also Precious. Sexual violence against girls cuts across every buffer of racial, economic and educational privilege. White, African-American, Latina, and Asian girls, across the economic spectrum, who are between the ages of 16 and 19 are four times more likely than the general population to be victims of rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault.
In fact, the highest rate of the sexual trafficking of girls isn't in Harlem or Compton, but in the rural and suburban neighborhoods of Ohio. Stories of incest are whispered by girls in the corners of stately mansions, in the best private schools and universities, and behind the walls of juvenile detention centers. And there is a thin divide between Precious' story of rape by her father and Mackenzie Phillips' admission that her famous father shamelessly drugged, raped -- and, yes, eventually impregnated -- her.
The question has to be asked: what is America doing to its daughters? Where is the public square conversation about the epidemic number of girls subject to sexual and physical violence?
If Precious can be positioned as a movie about what is happening to too many American girls, and not just poor African-American girls in Harlem, then perhaps we can begin, finally, that difficult public conversation. Perhaps we can even ask the challenging questions of why there is a media-driven hyper-sexualization of girls before they even come into any sense of agency over their own bodies. Why are 'tween and teen cultural icons like Hannah Montana only able to gain widespread popularity by being sexually suggestive? Why can't I find an outfit for my five-year-old daughter that doesn't link cute with sexual?
My fear is that Precious will appear so "other" to most of the movie's audience that her story will be neatly disentangled from the narratives of all young victims of incest, rape, and violence. She will be seen only as that poor black girl who bravely endures the pathologies of growing up in inner-city America.
Even in that context though, "Precious" is not truly representative. In real life, girls like Precious are not saved by a welfare worker or caring teacher. In real life, girls like Precious, who are poor, undereducated, and sexually victimized end up in the juvenile justice system. They have been raped, usually by people they were suppose to trust, and end up taking drugs, prostituting their bodies or running away -- which are the main offenses that put girls in detention. Some of them are also teen mothers who lose their children to foster care, rarely to be reunited with them by a well-intended social worker.
There are few programs that are especially established for victimized girls. A significant portion of funding for youth in vulnerable communities is set aside for boys. In general, isn't that the expectation of girls when they are sexually abused, no matter which neighborhoods they come from? They are expected to simply deal with it, as if there is something inevitable about being female and abused.
I hope I am wrong about "Precious," which is a brave and moving film. Maybe the movie will help us to honestly confront the unacceptable levels of violence done to girls. Maybe Precious will encourage us to start talking about what girls need to be safe, strong and whole. I pray that it does, because all of our daughters are precious.