Embracing stillness to conceive the Soft Bwoi

Responding to SOFT BWOI by Danny Bailey

 

By Arusa Qureshi - 23/06/23

 

Beyond the constructs and confines of gender, the divine feminine exists deep within us all. It’s the energy that allows for compassion, nurturing and devotion; an embracing of softness and stillness in all its varying guises. In Danny Bailey’s short film SOFT BWOI, the notion of the divine feminine is beautifully encapsulated through the use of folklore and imagery from Caribbean carnival culture and queerness. But music is the ultimate conduit through which the divine feminine is unleashed. In just under six minutes, Bailey uses a backdrop of soundsystem culture as a call to arms against the toxicity of masculinity, and in particular, the way in which many Black men are encouraged to deny a crucial part of themselves. 

Soft Bwoi begins with grainy and disorientating footage of concrete tower blocks, interspersed with vivid vignettes of hooded figures moving with intensity and jagged motions. We’re then introduced to ‘Di Beast’, a manifestation of the stereotype of the Black man. Bailey, as the film’s narrator, explains how ‘Di Beast’ – a hostile, aggressive and malevolent presence – comes to be: “They say to him, your manhood is all you are.” In this, and the sharp, suffocating black-and-white images that follow, Bailey plays with the idea of how Black men are perceived in society, but also how they inadvertently prescribe to those negative stereotypes, in turn destroying the careful balance required between masculine and feminine.

‘Di Divine Feminine’ arrives in the film accompanied by Cyrus Brandon’s pulsating dancehall rhythms, exemplifying the power that comes with this rejection of repression. Movement is a fundamental mode of expression and across the film, we see how movement and expression through one’s body becomes a rejection of colonial, heteronormative and harmful assumptions of masculinity. The shots in the film range from brightly coloured, accelerated clips of dance and activity to slow, camera angles panning in and out, like a physical reflection of the internal struggle. This climaxes with ‘Di Balance’, signified by a gentle, sensual kiss between ‘Di Beast’ and ‘Di Divine Feminine’, which as Bailey narrates, “reveals [the Black man’s] true reflection” and thus, the Soft Bwoi is conceived. 

The purpose of music in the film, and even the silences in between songs, are a reflection of the all-encompassing nature of this battle for wholeness. But the use of soundsystem culture in particular is significant here, because of its innate ability to uplift, with its power lying in the way that the music, rhythms and vibrations can enable the mundane to become magic. Those responsible for the music and the carnivalesque atmosphere are producers of a somewhat spiritual communal experience, where inclusivity and freedom of expression are key. The low frequencies of the bass and lyrical prowess of the emcee, coupled with the high-energy flow and emphasis on collective Black joy are all elements that are conducive to the embracing of pleasure, creativity and emotion and to a wider sense of healing. 

With rallying cries of “Soft Bwoi rise!”, Bailey depicts the true acceptance of the divine feminine and how the revolution begins with the self, within one’s own body. At its core, the message behind the film is simple: be brave and be bold to be who you want to be. But in the way contrasting visuals of Black men are presented – faces covered, looking away but then also submerged in rich hues, staring down the camera – there’s a feeling of unease and foreboding, and a recognition that with accepting the divine feminine also comes real fear and danger. The solution to toxic masculinity is by no means straightforward; there is plenty of work to do and part of that begins with allowing in some vulnerability. 

Bailey’s film, in its visceral imagery, simmering storytelling and sonic vibrations, offers a compelling argument for the awakening of the divine feminine, placing the ‘soft’ label in opposition to weakness. According to Soft Bwoi, balance, the rejection of wholly masculine energy and the implementation of self-acceptance and nurturing should be the primary goals in the overarching narrative of everyday living. To welcome softness is to recognise your inner strength, subsequently finding new and better ways to survive the dissonance of this world. 

You can watch SOFT BWOI at Fringe of Colour Films 2023 here.

 

 

Arusa Qureshi is an award-winning writer, editor and speaker with a passion for music, diversity and accessibility within arts and culture. I’ve just written a book about women in UK hip hop called Flip the Script, which is out now via 404 Ink.
Twitter: @arusaqureshi

 
 
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