By R. J. Joseph

Audre Lorde’s legendary quote, “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house”, is timeless because it is true: there is no effective way to model processes and systems of oppression exactly as they have always been enacted and expect different or equitable results. However, it is sometimes possible—even necessary—to remodel the tools to be wielded by those in marginalized positions to ensure survival. In the movies Blink Twice, and The Front Room, the Black female leading characters experience brutalization and trauma at the hands of their antagonists. Through remodeling the master’s tools of abuse and monstrosity into their own weapons, they ultimately conquer the demons and meet their own personal goals. 

The Zoe Kravitz-directed Blink Twice introduces us to Frida (Naomi Ackie), a smart, young Black woman with dreams of grandeur. She knows she is destined for success and is not afraid to work towards that goal. Her job as a catering server regularly places her in close proximity to rich and famous people. One of those people is Slater King (Channing Tatum), a billionaire who regularly indulges in the finer things his wealth affords him. Frida gains Slater’s attention, and he invites her and her girlfriend to a private party on his isolated island with several other people, some of whom are his friends, along with other young women they pick up that night. Once the group arrives on the island, the ensuing party rages on for days.

These gatherings are not simple parties. They are a vehicle for Slater and his friends to abuse and sexually assault women with the aid of a memory-erasing drug derived from plants on the island. Slater gifts the women with perfume made from the drug, as well as clothing, food, and lodging for the duration. Frida is drawn to Slater and is impressed by his attentiveness throughout the time they are together. Even before she makes the decisions that lead to the final scenes, she subconsciously knows Slater is the key to the life she wants.

Frida’s attraction to him persists although there are numerous signs Slater is not a good person. First, he is a billionaire—amassing great wealth is often achieved by hoarding earnings and exploiting less powerful people involved in the building process. This greed bleeds over into the rest of his life. Viewers see that Slater is on a redemption tour for a previous misdeed, for which he believes he should be exonerated. However, he still decides it is a good idea to continue holding his parties, which are rife with unlimited, high-end drugs, food, and alcohol. He seems unable to feel any guilt at what he does at the parties. The main reason for his ambivalence is eventually revealed, as he often states, “Forgetting is a gift.” As long as the women he and his friends abuse “forget” what has been done to them, the men do not have to acknowledge any wrongdoing.

Slater’s attractiveness and charm are tools he uses to manipulate his victims. When partnered with his wealth and ownership of the exclusive island with the rare plants, his status as a privileged, white man who can get away with the most heinous acts imaginable is cemented. The same is true for his friends and other powerful and wealthy men. Only two of the women who start to remember remain alive at the end to possibly bring any charges against Slater. None of his friends survive the rebellion led by those survivors. Due to the power Slater and his friends wielded, it is conceivable to conclude that any potential charges brought against them would have yielded consequences.

Frida is not interested in bringing charges against Slater. The only restitution she will accept is the high social standing and wealth of her abuser. Frida has endured racism, classism, and repeated sexual abuse throughout her life. The weapons of wealth and privilege worked against her because she lacked access to them. She took those same tools and adapted them to her own, specific goal. Once she realized the venom from snakes on the island was the antidote to the memory-erasing drug, she regained her full memory and created a plan. 

Frida erased Slater’s memory with the poison and put him under her control. She was as ruthless in exacting her revenge against him as he had been in repeatedly assaulting her. Standing on her own, the reversal of abuse may not have yielded the results she wanted. Therefore, her visible positioning as Slater’s wife allowed her to benefit from his privilege and wealth in the same ways he did. Her new position as the CEO of Slater’s company provides more comfort in her healing journey than any court decision could have.  

Similarly, The Front Room introduces Belinda (Brandy Norwood), another Black woman who is in need of healing. She is pregnant and has recently moved into a new house with her husband, Norman (Andrew Burnap). This is their second child, as the first baby died. Both Belinda and Norman are working through their grief at the loss. The prospect of her continuing journey to motherhood is especially fraught with insecurity for Belinda. She wants to be a good mother to the daughter she currently carries, but she is haunted by guilt over not being able to save her deceased son.

She must also balance motherhood with her career. Belinda holds an advanced degree in anthropology and is teaching at a local college as contingent faculty. She is practically invisible to her department chair and tries multiple times to set up a meeting with him to discuss her course load, to no avail. Belinda is likely ignored by the administration primarily because she is an adjunct faculty member, however, the fact she is also a Black woman cannot be discounted. In her subordinate position in higher education, she has very little power to force an audience with administration or control her course schedule and income.

Belinda and Norman have strained finances after their move and their financial struggles add to Belinda’s stress over all the changes in their lives. When Norman’s father dies and his stepmother, Solange (Kathryn Hunter) wants to move in with them to live out her final days, the inheritance she promises them seems to be an answer to part of their worries. The presence of the older woman instead creates increasing stress. Belinda finds herself immediately sandwiched between preparing for her new baby and serving as the caretaker for an elderly woman.

The situation becomes volatile when Belinda realizes Solange arrived at their home with all the privilege of a white woman of means who is used to gaining her way through various manipulative strategies, from condescension to tears to threats. Solange holds her money over their heads and forces Belinda to cater to her in increasingly demeaning ways. Belinda is also subjected to microaggressions and outright racist remarks from her mother-in-law, and Norman, while knowing Solange can be difficult, largely does not recognize the racial undertones of her treatment of his wife. He also neglects to fully understand the weight of Belinda taking on the bulk of caregiving for the new baby and Solange.

Further, Solange is not above cruelly playing on Belinda’s vulnerable state right after childbirth, and her insecurities about motherhood, despite Solange not having birthed any children herself. She seeks to replace Belinda as the woman of the house, and as a result, as the only mother under their roof. Belinda is mentally and physically exhausted after childbirth, and in her weakest moments are where Solange makes gains towards pushing her out. Solange constantly overrides Belinda’s authority in matters regarding the house, Norman, and Belinda’s newborn daughter. These efforts are strengthened through indignities Solange subjects Belinda to, mainly the relegation of the younger woman to physically cleaning her and the furnishings after she makes several messes due to contrived incontinence and loss of bowel control. Solange’s religious ideologies also constantly conflict with Belinda’s education and personal ideals.

The culmination of Solange’s monstrosity is displayed in her overt racism and the glee she cannot contain when she knows Belinda is weakening. Her visage becomes increasingly more monstrous as she leans into her control and abuse of Belinda. She taunts the young mother with the strenuous care of her, manipulating situations where Belinda is constantly caught between caring for Solange, caring for her daughter, and caring for herself. Solange succeeds in creating a wedge between Norman and Belinda, so Belinda is largely alone in her battle. 

Belinda begins to regain her agency when she responds to Solange in anger. It is obvious the older woman’s death cannot come quickly enough for Belinda’s sanity to be completely salvaged. Solange will continue to expose Belinda’s inability to perform motherly caretaking duties such as patiently changing diapers, bathing, and feeding those who are (in her case, only appearing to be) unable to do those things for themselves. Belinda will always fall short because Solange unceasingly performs a grotesque mockery of infantile behavior. In the end, however, Belinda is freed from Solange’s torture through Belinda embracing her own monstrosity and murdering her mother-in-law. Having just given life, Belinda mercilessly takes a life—using the same murderous technique racists have used against people of color for generations. 

Frida and Belinda frequently endure misogynoir and abuse in their personal and professional lives that tear at their confidence and prohibit them from healing from the treatment. Frida attempts to navigate these obstacles through her service work and traditional avenues of meeting people and dating but makes no gains. Belinda attains an advanced education, marries, has children, and tries to respectfully care for her mother-in-law, but these efforts do not help her avoid monstrous acts directed at her. Neither woman is equipped to navigate a system built to serve other purposes and meet goals that do not include them or their best interests.

Lorde’s words can take on a more nuanced meaning in personal liberation movements, especially those aimed at working through trauma. While marginalized members of society, Black women, specifically, are largely unable to benefit from the power built into society’s structures, Black women can boldly take those flawed tools and use them to build their own realities and benefits, just as Frida and Belinda did.

Lorde presented an unflinching critique of a patriarchal system built with the wretched tools of racism, misogyny, homophobia, ageism, and ableism. When she infamously stated, “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house”, she was speaking specifically to how these tools have been successful because of the end goal projected by the dominant population. The goal was to uplift certain objectives at the expense of those in the margins of those objectives. The constructors built a logical conclusion to the use of those tools. When Black women embrace, but adapt the same tools, they can use them to work towards similarly adapted goals of healing and agency.