Black Life

I must express my great disappointment in the reelection of Judge Karlin. My disappointment and anger extend to my people in the black community who did not take the time and effort to vote to ensure this unqualified individual did not continue to hand down decisions that are unfair and unjust. I ask what does it take for this community to get motivated? As a new resident of Los Angeles County, I watched in horror and disbelief when Judge Karlin sentenced the Korean grocer to five years' probation for the killing of Latasha Harlins.

Though commonplace in the city's urban landscape, the images resonate with warmth and familiarity: a smiling cop, a woman carefully arranging her daughter's hair before the girl goes off to school, a young family out walking the dog. Other images paint the city's darker half. Street scenes pockmarked by graffiti, a man standing on a trash-littered sidewalk below a slashed billboard that reads "Commitment to Excellence," the smoldering remains of a fire-ravaged building.

The use of the appellation "black male" or "black female" to refer to a black man or a black woman perpetuates the dehumanization of black people. "Male" and "female" are primarily adjectives denoting gender. When used as nouns, those words signify a plant or animal of that gender, whereas the primary definitions of "man" and "woman" signify human beings of male and female gender, respectively. In light of this, consider this text that appeared in the March 4 Calendar article on the Getty photographic exhibition on black life in the mid-1800s: " . . . a daguerreotype depicting a white family posed in front of their Greek Revival home.

Willie Robert Middlebrook, a photographer who sought to enlarge public perceptions of the African American community through painterly depictions of its people and places, died Saturday at Brotman Medical Center in Culver City. He was 54. The cause was complications of a stroke suffered last month, said his daughter, Jessica Middlebrook. Middlebrook's death came just a week after the unveiling at the new Expo/Crenshaw Metro station of one of his largest public installations, a series of 24 mosaic panels based on his photographs.

In the script for the landmark 1964 film "Nothing but a Man," actor Ivan Dixon saw something familiar in the character Duff Anderson. Duff was a railroad worker in love with Josie, a schoolteacher and minister's daughter who lived in an Alabama town. The story of Duff's attempts to live with dignity and to love, despite racial injustice, was an honest depiction of black life in America, Dixon said.

I was quite upset to read of young Amber Jefferson and the violent racial attack on her and her friends (Aug. 10). My first thought was for Amber and her family. Here is a young life that will never be the same. A half-white child that may come to hate part of her heritage because of what happened to her. I was extremely distraught that no one had been arrested. That the situation was still under investigation because police could not determine exactly what happened. As if this child could have actually done something to make this assault seem reasonable.

These men and women are not actors, producers or directors. They are ordinary people, who live ordinary lives, whose names will not appear among the credits of any film. Yet to the staff of the nonprofit Pan African Film Festival, this group of volunteers plays a crucial role in their effort to promote movies that destroy stereotypes and challenge notions of what it means to be a person of African descent.