Ava DuVernay’s A Wrinkle In Time was...weird for me. I know that, for the culture, we keep our silence if we hate something, because we still want it to do well. However, this prose is not to render judgement on whether the movie was good or bad, but rather to touch on one of the very many things that were thought provoking and some kinda wonderful. Honestly, if I were to render judgement I would likely say that when it first finished, I was not immediately pleased. But I was prepared to place blame anywhere else, including giving it to the original author of the book, though I know and have been told that this movie deviates from the book. However, the more I allow myself to actively reflect on this movie, and the more I speak about it with friends, the more my opinion of the movie evolves. There is certainly something to be said about processing a movie with Black women who, like me, enjoy drawing meaning from what we see. Please note, that there will definitely be some spoilers ahead.

There is nothing sexier than a nursing bra with wet spots. Actually, everything is sexier than that right now and therein lies my problem. I want my sexy back!

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Aside from the fact that this is a disgusting display of toxic masculinity rooted in patriarchy that would believe a woman’s whole self should be dedicated to belonging to someone in order to be considered someone of worth, I do want to have a real discussion about this. I especially want to talk to the self identified women who see this, laugh, but in reality take this to heart…