Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.
I stood up.
In 2018, while writing a profile on Samuel L. Jackson, I was sequestered in a makeshift office on the set of the “Shaft” reboot, where I had been summoned during the cast and crew’s lunch break. I had never been assigned to an entertainment beat, so I had no idea why I was singled out. I assumed that I had broken an unwritten rule of set protocol. Had I creeped out Regina Hall or asked director Tim Story too many questions? Was Samuel L. Jackson going to call me a “motherf*cker?”
As it turned out, someone on the set told Jackson about a paper I wrote for a film class during my undergrad years. Jackson thought the premise of the paper was fascinating so, during his lunch break, he strutted into the room carrying a styrofoam container and all of the self-assured confidence that he invokes. Regina Hall, who is as strikingly beautiful in person as she is in high-definition IMAX, stopped by the room and joined in. As if I were a student of Black nerddom taking notes from real-world scholars, I listened to stories about meeting James Earl Jones at an audition, the Marvel Cinematic universe and the history of Black film characters.
My back was to the door, but I could tell something Black had just happened. Hall stopped mid sentence. Jackson straightened his back, put his fork down and nodded in my direction. Unsure of exactly what I should do, I deferred to the familiar protocol of Black churches and stood up as if a choir was marching into the sanctuary….
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