Strange Mercy is about a lot of things. It’s open to interpretation—though that openness can lead to false interpretation. As I recognize the difficulties of moving in artistic spaces as a black woman, particularly film, the willful obtuseness of an observer, a critic, another artist is something I have to steel myself again.

I was once asked if this film was about Cameron, the main character, being sexually abused. In a bad way. I realized that this dark black family couldn’t have normal everyday problems like the rest of society but the worst parts of humankind must be present for them. In visualizing my writing, I had automatically challenged an image.

What’s going on with Cameron? Why is she so angry? What happened with the family? What’s going on with the four of them? These are questions that are perfectly acceptable to ask, and hopefully with a deeper thought and look into Strange Mercy one would question them and conjure up answers. If we place judgements based on visual cues we aren’t used to seeing, I want the viewer to challenge why that is.

This family is flawed and chaotic, as many families are. The marriage of the parents is imbalanced and tense, as many marriages between people, particularly [cis] men and women, tend to be. The sisters are mature in their own way but bratty, as many young adults are. Cameron has no clue what is going on throughout her journey but she knows that there is something that is taking a toll on her and her loved ones.

It’s open to interpretation—though that openness can lead to false interpretation. As I recognize the difficulties of moving in artistic spaces as a black woman, particularly film, the willful obtuseness of an observer, a critic, another artist is something I have to steel myself again.

I was once asked if this film was about Cameron, the main character, being sexually abused. In a bad way. I realized that this dark black family couldn’t have normal everyday problems like the rest of society but the worst parts of humankind must be present for them. In visualizing my writing, I had automatically challenged an image.

My desire to point out all the flaws with Strange Mercy is palpable. I have seen this short millions of times (or what feels like it) and have had no clue what to feel. Slowly, I am realizing that I don’t have to have any expectations. Or, maybe, I am letting go of needing it to be perfect, expecting myself to be a flawless filmmaker always, and reveling in what it means as a piece, to me, and in retrospect to my overall work and goals.

I will indulge myself one criticism: I wish I had less inhibition in realizing this film. But what I have is what I made in the moment, what I felt, and what I could do. I was finally doing what I wanted. I wrote something that I believed would be good to see. I wrote something, as I always do, that flowed from within me. It sounds corny, but it’s easier to feel first and think later.

Plus, I love the idea of women losing their minds. Plenty of women and film critics have begun exploring what can push a woman’s psyche, the house of horrors that womanhood can be and the ways to emphasize that visually. But within that exploration a huge chunk of a population is ignored—the black woman.

Black women going all out, balls to the wall fucking crazy, is somewhat of the constant state in the minds of others that haven’t faced their biases. The signs of insanity in a black woman have always been there.

Cameron’s anger is ever-present. So when a black woman displays any sign of actual anger and frustration or being pushed to the brink of insanity, it no longer (to many) becomes the exploration of what women have not been allowed to do but questioning why she’s so angry over nothing. If we were to pay attention, all the answers would be there. Ironically, if we are stoic it shows a lack of true self and feeling.

Strange Mercy is part of my intense fascination with the plight of women, who display their anger and frustrations with the same abandon we have seen other women, my favorite women, in film canon. I can list all the films that majorly inspired me, that show the viewer that women can and will express erratic feelings and that they are common in every family, it can be liberating, it can be toxic, it can Be.

Cameron’s violent maladaptive daydreams are actually crazy, sure, but what she searches for is a way to handle all this shit piled on. How the environment, emotions, and actions of oneself and others in an environment that quietly suppresses and oppresses you ratchets to these outcomes.

There’s this space the characters exist in, in the said and unsaid, a wall between the truth, the self, and the space. Although I wish Cameron went farther (well, I wish a lot of things) we slowly find peace through intense expression.

I’m not sure what I would change if I were I to do this particular script again. I can’t say that my exploration of anger, anxiety, sadness and visual manifestations of each will ever end. And I chop down and challenge simmering expectations of bodies. And the people who see it can resonate, understand, question, and intellectually allow the characters to do so.

Life is chaotic and an immense challenge. We are all living it.