Netflix’s Bridgeton spotlights childhood trauma

BY RALPH BRYANT

Like so many men across the world, I have been subjected to the digital torture of watching the soapy utopian (or dystopian) Shondaland Netlfix’s show, Bridgeton.  In a desperate attempt to keep the peace, I agreed, accepting that at a minimum, Shonda Rimes, one of my sheroes, would keep me entertained. Yet, I was unprepared for how wonderful the show was. It’s like dancing through tubes of ice creams, colourful, delicious, and, in the right hands, sexy. It is a luscious viewing of love and lascivious, not to mention a dynamic interpretation of race, class and power. I was unprepared for how much the show’s emotional core focused on mental illness.

Sparing you the details of the various juicy subplots, the main story centers on two people who fall in love, Daphne Bridgeton, the fairest of all the white princesses-to-be, and Simon, the Duke of Hastings, a nouveau riche nobleman with daddy issues. In a world where marriages are more a mating dance and familial business arrangement, Daphne and Simon managed to find a rare commodity, true love. All of which was threatened as the depths of Simon’s psychological trauma is revealed, not to mention the loss of his mother at childbirth. These may be the only things I ever have in common with a Duke.

Like Simon, I also had a parent who was as good as dead to me (my absent sperm donor), and a mother who was barely able to be present (my overmatch teenage mother). Simon lived his whole life feeling inadequate, despite having all the access to wealth and privilege; and that still was not enough. He falls into a destructive and detached lifestyle and trauma prevents him from receiving the unconditional love he has yearned for his entire life.

There is no difference between Simon struggling inside Hastings House and brothers struggling with the same issues in the projects. Growing up in the 70s and 80s, there was a whole lost generation of black fathers during the boom of post-Vietnam’s heroin addicts, and later the base heads on crack, that devastated our community. The men today are still dealing with those shackles around their necks that are often preventing them from achieving the lives they deserve.

Like many people, I have foolishly lived my life in the same way as Simon. Confident on the surface, yet emotionally closed off. My father abandoned me, so I have perpetually felt alone. I was sexually assaulted; so I was damaged. I was from the hood, so I was truly incapable of reaching for the stars, even though we have evidence of people achieving beyond their trauma all the time.

Simon is also an important reminder that wealth does not prevent someone from suffering with mental illness. Nor does fame, or success. In far too many cases, our mental health challenges are often heightened as we rise higher than we believe we are worthy. We see this exemplified in legends like Donny Hathaway and Phyllis Hyman, to more recent celebrities like Whitney Houston.  Currently, we are still enthralled with what is happening with Kanye West, who many people believe to have never recovered from the death of his mother, Donda West.

We often talk about the recovery timeline, whether it’s trauma or addiction, as if it is a simple fix. As if we could simply snap our fingers and let years melt away into oblivion. Rich or poor, the result is often the same. Except for love; we often believe that love cures all; the love of our family, our friends. We hope that love will be enough to want to make the changes we must, to find healing.  Love never is; at least not the external kind. It’s the moment when you are able to see yourself worthy of love – in Simon’s case; he had Daphne to show him he was worthy. But it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t also believe it as well.

I look forward to finding out how the show deals with mental illness in upcoming seasons.