By A.G. Harmon
In Michael Lewis’ The Blind Side, a non-fiction bestseller recently made into a box office hit with Sandra Bullock, the author focuses on a family that has done an odd thing. The Tuohys, who are white, take into their home a huge black youth from a part of town that statistics show is around the third poorest in the nation. They pay for him to attend the church school their own children attend, and eventually adopt him as their son.
In the end, the boy, Michael Oher, becomes a football phenomenon, sought-after by every school in the country. His body shape and size belie a quick grace that makes him what Lewis calls a “freak of nature.” After a stellar collegiate career, he’s a first round NFL draft pick.
My focus is not on the movie (a nice, sentimental portrayal of the events, with a career-best performance from Bullock), but on the real-life story and some response it has garnered.
More than once, I’ve heard strange comments about this whole affair. For instance, I’ve heard that the Tuohys are all the more remarkable for what they have done, considering the milieu in which they live. Probing further, I’m told that such a thing happening in Memphis, among self-professed Bible-believers of considerable means, is truly amazing.
My back stiffens, and I query on. While I concede that such a bold step as the Touhy’s is woefully rare, why is it amazing in these circumstances particularly? Is it because it happened in Memphis, or because the Touhys are rich and white, or because of their religious profession? All three, I’m informed.
Ah. It seems I’ve been taught a lesson. Goodness turns out to be very parochial indeed; it is mostly dispensed by those in certain locales, of a certain socio-economic status, and of a decidedly secular dispensation. Glad to be set straight on that.
The other thing I’ve heard is that the Touhys are not remarkable at all; in fact, they’re exploitive. According to this angle, the family adopted the boy to garner glory from their church-going brethren, a primitive group who supposedly trumpet their “good deeds” in a kind of virtue porn.
This position continues along the lines that the Touhys wanted Michael to play for their alma mater (a real life suspicion, as the movie shows) and intended to cash in on the celebrity of his story all along. The detractors point to the family’s talks show appearances as evidence.
While there are people who do good things for bad reasons, that’s not the case here. The Touhys are rich. They didn’t need the money Michael would someday make. They didn’t have to do what they did. Plus, they had no idea of the boy’s talents, let alone his likelihoods. Theirs was an incredible risk, a huge venture made on faith.
And let it be said that there are countless stories like Michael’s in which good people tried to do a good thing, but everything turned out horrible anyway. I’ve known of such cases, involving resentment and hatred at the least, violence and crime at the worst.
Besides, why are people like the Touhys not allowed to be heroes? White, Southern, prosperous, evangelical—their set is damned either way. If they ignore Michael’s plight, they’re labeled callous; if they do something about it, they’re opportunists? It seems any stick is good enough to beat them with.
I was once met with a curious philosophical argument: that every good act is at root a selfish one. According to this position, that the benefactor receives something in return—some fame or recognition, or at a minimum, some sense of satisfaction or self-affirmation—attenuates the virtue.
What a perverse way of looking at things. Under such a scheme, the only truly genuine act would be one that makes you feel like dirt.
I don’t doubt that the Touhys feel proud—affirmed in the life that they’ve led and glad to have practiced their faith, tough as it was to do. Good for them. Sadly, deeds such as theirs are so uncommon that they seem freakish to our fallen nature. Would that there were more of them.
However, I do think it's possible to offer some balance within a single film, and to leave space for self-critique in our arts and thoughts. I'm not suggesting balance/self-critique is lacking in this film or that the Touhy's wallowed in their virtue. I guess I'm suggesting that I understand how those sorts of critical conversations arise about films that depict a person who’s considered privileged as a hero. And I understand why people question a pat on the back of the “privileged,” whether or not what a particular person did in a particular instance was a really good thing to do. Even Mt. 19:23 criticizes a person willing to do good in some forms but not others, namely ridding himself of all his possessions. That’s a zinger of a critique, one that I struggle with. Jesus seems always eager to remind us that none of us is worthy of a pedestal, and Paul that “all have fallen short.”
I originally commented on the racial aspect of many inspirational films. I personally think it's healthy for me to challenge my own subject positions or have them challenged by others, and often this comes about through the arts. I’m white and I’m a Christian, so embracing examples of other white Christians who "do good" comes easily to me. Who doesn’t like a pat on the back? What doesn't come easy to me is critiquing myself or others relatively similar to myself. And for that reason, I'm thankful that white Christian villains and hypocrites exist in film.