In a compelling performance, Colman Domingo resurrects the elegant queer wit and determination of the Civil Rights icon, Bayard Rustin, in his namesake biopic.
Though there has been an attempt to minimize and erase black queer people from the mosaic of black history, even going as far as to claim us as a product of white supremacy, trailblazers like Rustin serve as formidable paragons to combat this divisive sentiment. In the face of homophobia that included being arrested for consensual gay acts, anti-black racism that had him being dragged from a bus and beaten, and a tumultuous love life, this film acts as a time machine, taking viewers through the trial and triumphs of one of the driving forces for what became the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
Netflix’s Rustin highlights his work and humanizes him by giving a glimpse into his personal life, including his expertise in the arts and his relationship with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King. The latter was quick to remind him in one scene during a visit to the family that “there were no masters in the King household,” a very accurate portrayal of the late Mrs. King’s character as a woman who married in the early 1950s and refused to say the word “obey” in her wedding vows. Sexism and misogyny are briefly touched upon in the film, though there could have been some better elaboration (even as relates to Rustin, who had his sexist faults).
This film also serves as a great demonstration of how, even within anti-oppression movements, there will always be disagreements. The ability to reconcile differences while focusing on a common goal while working to ensure no one is left behind is indeed possible. In the present-day black diaspora, there is some ongoing discord between continental Africans, West Indians, and Black Americans. Still, if one looks back in history, as highlighted in Rustin, there were black people from all walks of life who contributed to the advancement of the race and the overall achievements made in the 1960s.
At 28 years old, I didn’t learn of Bayard Rustin until I was a junior in high school. Still deep in the closet and living in a pretty socially hostile environment towards queerness and blackness in central Indiana, this was the beginning of my journey of self-acceptance. I understood that there could be something for me to look forward to. In a time where there’s been a strong resurgence of anti-woman, anti-queer, and anti-black legislature, Rustin serves as an important reminder that even in the face of adversity and seeming hopelessness, there’s always something promising on the other side of the battle. Beyond everything, albeit imperfect, we do stand on the shoulders of giants.
This film review was written by Matthew B. He is a black queer media connoisseur and traveler living in Minnesota, USA. He received his B.A. from Indiana University – Purdue University Indianapolis and is pursuing a Master of Science in Technical Communication from the University of Minnesota. You can connect with him on Instagram.
