“Lady in the Lake” thoughts, Episode Seven: “My Story”

But the nice thing about racism is that it has no basis in fact. It’s entirely made-up nonsense. It’s bullshit, it’s bupkis, it’s a fabrication, it’s a myth. This is why all the groups rattled off by that awful Officer Bosko in the previous episode — the Irish, the Italians, the Jews, presumably Polish people like himself — have been able to “overcome” racism and “become” white. Race is sociopolitical Calvinball: The people in charge get to decide who counts, and it has nothing to do with any qualities that are innate to anyone. They make up the rules as they go along!

In other words, people are treated differently, and their different experiences make them different in many ways, but people are the same. The family you see on the news, crying for their slain child in a pile of rubble half a world away, feel the same grief and pain as the family you see on the news, crying for their slain child at a school shooting in an American suburb, who feel the same grief and pain as the family you see on the news, crying for their murdered daughter/sister/mother killed by cops for committing no crime at all. Lionel, Cleo’s son with sickle cell anemia, and Anne Frank, seen in a photo hanging from the wall near Maddie’s desk, are united by far, far more than what separates them. But you don’t have to take my word for it: Ask the Nazis in this very episode.

I reviewed the series finale of Lady in the Lake for Decider.

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