Valerie Complex on being black in Cannes: how micro-aggression ruined my festival experience

At the Cannes Film Festival in 2019, as a freelance film critic, this time I gladly went as a film critic and journalist for Deadline. I knew logging in would be different with a powerful platform and my workload would double. Either way, he was up for the challenge. As I walked down the cruise ship route on the way to the Festival Palace, the atmosphere was not as welcoming as I expected. As soon as I arrived at my destination, I understood what awaited me during this journey: micro-aggressions directed against me due to the color of my skin.

According to Miriam Webster’s Dictionary, microaggression is a comment or action that subtly and often unknowingly or unintentionally expresses prejudice against an outcast group (such as a racial minority). Some of the incidents I experienced in Cannes in 2019 fall under the definition of microaggression, but unfortunately this time around it was worse.

Here I will focus on the festival and not the city of Cannes, even if the festival is a reflection of the city. Before I discuss my experience from last month in detail, I must first talk about what happened in 2019.

On the first day of his arrival in May 2019, he was outside Carlton, all dressed in black. I just got a screen ticket and I had an envelope in my pocket. A woman came up and asked me, “Do you have any tickets for sale?” I said no, but that question kept popping up in my mind and bothered me all day. “What did he mean by that?” I was courious. I asked my fellow journalist (a Cannes veteran) what happened. He explained that while people always crave tickets and ask someone else if they see them with a ticket, many think that blacks who party at the festivities could prepare tickets for the film premiere. I was stunned by the silence.

The next day, when I entered the security area with several other reporters walking towards the building, only I was parked “by accident” looking for my bag. When the security guard found the rubber package, the man immediately started yelling at me in French. I don’t understand French, but I know aggression. “why are you screaming?” .To ask. Her behavior changed with surprise, as if he was surprised that she spoke English. Another woman stepped in and she calmly and respectfully told me not to bring chewing gum to the Teatro Lumiere next time. Shy isn’t the word I’ve heard. People looked at me thinking I had committed a crime! Does the handle fly on the rubber? I was wondering if he reacted this way to everyone who had a packet of chewing gum in their bag. Or just me that day?

If that wasn’t humiliating enough, the next day I ran into a movie buff who said something shocking to me. Early in the morning I arrived at Mati Diop’s Atlantics show. When the film ended, I was outside the cinema when an elderly French white woman walked up to me, put her hand on my shoulder, without permission, and said, “Wow! You did such a good deed you should be proud, and he if he left. “What was this?” I thought. 30 minutes later it appeared: this woman thought I was in the movie and probably thought I was the lead actress (Father Bineta Sane). He was not angry now, more frustrated what else.

There were other problems during my five day trip, but you get it. My time in 2022 has been a lot tougher and I think improving access has led me to new topics that are part of the Cannes Film Festival’s culture of elitism and exclusion.

On May 16, 2022, the first day I arrived there, I was on my way to the American Pavilion when I was again “accidentally” hit by a guard. His reasoning: I had a large bag with me. But they all also had big bags. You might think Interpol was looking for my bag because the guards dumped the entire contents of my bag onto the table so they could examine items and check for any cracks in my bag. Passers-by were also shocked to see him. I thought to myself: “Here we are”.

Verification of my credentials was constant, especially in Paley’s testimony. The guards and staff checked my ID to make sure it was there before even scanning it. I have not seen anyone around me treated in this way. Once, while I was attending a first screening at the Debussy Theater, I went to the reserved section because these seats were printed on my ticket. All the cleaners asked to see my seat number, the more I walked in front of the orchestra.

I saw many white spectators walking with me to the same police station without checking tickets. When I finally sat down in my seat, I looked around and couldn’t see any row of colors near me. Maybe that’s why? In another preview show, I sat in the reserved queue and three different chair locks approached my chair to check my ticket to make sure I was in the right place. They didn’t check anyone else’s tickets, just mine.

Things like that happened to me every day. I tried not to give it to myself, but it happened so often that I got depressed. When you watch a movie, you want to focus on what’s on the screen and nothing else. It was difficult to dispel the emotions of such a distinction.

I talked to others and looked for anything that would help me confirm my feelings. A reporter told me exactly what he was giving me. “We are committing racism against them and we think we can dress better,” said the reporter, who asked not to be identified. “I wore it to all the movie screenings and thought he would give me more respect. Eventually I said to myself, “Why am I doing this?” I don’t need to express myself or dress up just to be accepted. I just need a movie ticket or an invitation to the event. He is.”

Clayton Davis, editor-in-chief of the Variety Awards, posted on Twitter his frustration at being turned down for wearing a white tuxedo on the red carpet, while others wear it without incident. While he was at the palace, he was constantly asked to show him his credentials to check if he was in the right place.

Vogue reports that indigenous director Kelvin Redvers has been banned from the red carpet premiere for wearing Forever Young (Les Amandiers) loafers, part of cultural fashion for which the festival should be more generous.

Black French actors saw the issue of representation in the French film industry and discussed it at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival. French actresses Aisa Maiga, Nadezhda Bosson-Diane and others walked hand in hand to protest the under-representation of black women and mestizos and against clichés are exposed in the leather and industry in general.

I understand the dynamics. Marginalized groups, especially blacks, are excluded from this “elite” milieu. Those in power refuse to accept that the media landscape is changing. The higher a person climbs, the more aggressive the microaggressions become. This is attributed to the protection of the door, where there is still a misunderstanding about the appearance of the establishment. It is hard for some to believe that I am sitting in the Prime Minister’s private section of the Grand Auditorium Louis Lumière, where there are usually people I don’t like. This in itself becomes a negative reflection of the festival.

The same group of white male directors entered the main competition and out. Beyond Hello, co-directed by Anna Cissé, the festival’s only official selection with a black director, 2022 was more or less the same. It is not enough for the skin to program films that focus on marginalized groups. When will non-white directors have a chance to recognize their talent behind the camera? Mati Diop is the first and only black director to enter the main competition and become the first to win a major award in the festival’s history. That year he also won Les Miserable de Ladj Ly. Leather has been around for 75 years; Why did it happen for the first time in 2019?

The level of exclusion is a role model that continues to thrive even when everyone thought progress was on the way. The General Delegate of the Cannes Film Festival, Thierry Fremo, reinforces this sentiment in his statements. Asked at a press conference about the lack of films by black directors, Fremo said: “It takes time for cinema to establish itself.” In the same word, he portrayed Mati Diop as the pinnacle of cinematic skin diversity, as if it only took one man to remove seven and a half decades of exclusion.

I’ve thought about it for a long time, but I can’t settle for just one of the few black journalists present. The goal of such an important festival should be more for everyone: more equality for those who make films and for those who follow them. It must begin with an attitude change, recognizing that old bad habits need to be scrutinized by those who can accept or reject decent films or black journalists who want to be treated equally.

I was grateful to attend the festival, but Deadline chose me to represent them based on the quality of my work at the festival and not because I am a black woman. These principles must be applied to the skin. I write this in the hope that those of us on the edge will be forced to report the injustices they see or suffer there. Perhaps this will light enough fire below them to do more than a bare minimum.

Valerie Complex is an associate editor, writer, and host of Deadline. scene view 2 Podcast.