Show Me a Hero: HBO’s Zeitgeisty Historical Miniseries Deals with Housing Desegregation in the ’80s

And let me say: those meetings… They are utterly cringe-worthy. They are like Facebook comment threads today come to life, out loud. People say things I’ve definitely heard before, but usually said online rather than to my face. Like this from a resident: “We’re not prejudiced. We just object to giving housing subsidies in an area where people have worked so hard to afford their home.” Read: poor people (particularly poor people of color) don’t work hard. They’re good for nothing and will destroy the neighborhood. The yelling and ranting and cheering one another’s xenophobia on in the council meetings is deeply uncomfortable to watch. Without sensationalizing and dehumanizing the white residents of Yonkers, it holds a mirror up to the white community. “How do you like how you really look?” it asks.

And there are lots of scenes in the city council meetings; they all reminded me of that episode of This American Life that I referenced above. When the council finally votes to cooperate with Judge Sand’s order, the riot that ensues made me wonder who the real “thugs” and criminals are. It’s shockingly true that some white people (like all people) can get insanely angry when things don’t go their way.

The problem with trying to locate crime as an inner-city, black-person phenomenon is that it ignores the shocking reality of sin that beats within one’s own breast. The more blind we are to our own fallibility, the more it is allowed to run amuck. When sin and disorder are merely “out there,” instead of also “in here,” we can become guilty of shocking acts against our neighbors.

Wasicsko’s moral awakening is slow. Even in the third episode, when he has begun to back the implementation of Judge Sand’s order, he is in many ways doing it because it’s a good political bet, not primarily because it is morally right. When he says, “I think for the first time in my life, I am on the right side of something–and I am all alone,” he’s rightly expressing that he’s being politically courageous, but he’s doing it because he believes people are going to wake up and see that the opposition is bankrupting the town and hurting its people–and he’s going to end up on the politically advantageous side.

But something happens along the way. Somewhere along the way, what is mostly a political calculation of what is right for the city and for Wasicsko as a politician becomes a moral cause for him. In the fourth episode, we see how far he’s traveled when he says this:

You will never hear Jack O’Toole utter a racist phrase, ’cause guys like that, they learn how not to say the bad words. … Nothing out of his mouth that’ll give it away, you know? It’s all property values and life and liberty and people only living where they can afford it and all that talk. But underneath it all, it’s fear. Same as it ever was. I played into that fear too. When I got in for mayor, I did. It chewed me up.”

Wasicsko paid a big political price for backing Judge Sand’s order, but over time his courageous choice helps him to grow in moral character. He learned what one person says to another, “How do you know a hero in Yonkers? When they make you pay for it.”

There are still two episodes yet to be released in this riveting miniseries. I’ve been challenged and convicted by it. I’m most appreciative of the fact that the central character is not a cleaned-up white guy who has an unwavering record in regards to people of color. Rather, he’s a guy more like the rest of us: somebody who starts out really not getting it but slowly begins to understand the reality of injustice against the black and Latino community. He becomes a hero, but he’s a flawed one. And for those who know the history of Wasicsko’s life, we know there is tragedy ahead.

It’s worth noting that all the acting is really fantastic. Oscar Isaac’s performance as Wasicsko is completely believable and compelling, and Carla Quevedo’s turn as his beloved wife Nay Noe holds together the heart of the film. The Springsteen-infused soundtrack drops us back in the past even as we examine issues that remain entirely contemporary. In regards to the music, Chris Ryan writes in Grantland, “According to Haggis, it was a postproduction decision to include these songs, but it’s hard to imagine the same show without them. These songs function as a kind of emotional shorthand — they speak when people are too busy to really talk.” The writing is also extremely good, nuanced, interesting, and replete in well-executed foreshadowing.

This miniseries is entirely worth your time.

For more on the history of segregated housing in America, check out this source. Also, read this excellent interview with David Simon and Cory Booker about the show and the important issues within it.

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Photo source: IMDB.com