If You Build It, They Will March

Hey, friends! It’s Pride Month, tomorrow is Juneteenth, and last weekend millions of people took to the streets to call out fascist BS. The closest I can get to a fitting recognition of all that in this newsletter is to talk about the 2023 film Rustin, starring Colman Domingo, directed by George C. Wolfe, and made with Barack and Michelle Obama’s money. (The Obama production credit is how you know it’s intended at least partly for the edification of white people.) I wasn’t planning to feature another biopic so soon after Chevalier, but if anybody would understand a change of plans, it’d be civil rights activist Bayard Rustin (1912-1987).

Raise your hand if you’d heard of Rustin A) before this movie came out or B) ever. If so, you’re better informed than I was! The Obamas were right about me; I went into the movie almost entirely cold and emerged edified (or at least hyped to learn more).

We open on a montage* of recreated incidents from the Civil Rights Movement: young Black people sitting at a segregated lunch counter as white bystanders torment them; fifteen-year-old Elizabeth Eckford facing a hostile white crowd outside Little Rock Central High; tiny Ruby Bridges skipping innocently into danger. So the stakes are officially established! And the subtlety-meter is set to zero—but it could've been in the negatives, so this isn’t necessarily a criticism.

It’s 1960. Rustin and fellow veteran activist Ella Baker (the unmatched and underused Audra McDonald)** are urging their younger pal, Martin Luther King Jr, to lead a nonviolent protest at the upcoming Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles. MLK’s not sold. Mass protests take a lot of work to pull off; are the Dems really the right target?; etc. Rustin insists they need to send the Democratic Party a message: “Unless they show up for our people—stand up against segregation—our people will not show up for them.” MLK gives the camera a slow smile that tells us he’s in.

But amidst a jazzy soundtrack, complications ensue. Turns out Rustin’s got enemies in and adjacent to the Movement: Congressman Adam Clayton Powell Jr (Jeffrey Wright) is ticked that Rustin hasn’t consulted him. And the NAACP’s leader, Roy Wilkins (Chris Rock???), is jealous of Rustin, presumably for being portrayed by a superior actor.

Sidenote: Who took stock of Chris Rock’s whole deal and thought, Yeah, if we just gray up his hair he’ll definitely be convincing as someone other than Chris Rock? I was constantly distracted and annoyed by his presence. Tbf we’re supposed to be annoyed by Wilkins, but the casting feels a lil like character assassination by default.

Wilkins goes Welllllll, we all know Rustin’s gay, which is effectively illegal, sooooo seems like we can just casually ruin his life. They promptly spread a rumor that Rustin and MLK are hooking up. (Historically accurate drama!!!)

Rustin breezily denies it—“He’s not my type”—but at the first whiff of controversy the protest gets axed. Rustin, as a stunt/bluff to defuse tension, offers to resign from MLK’s organization, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, assuming that MLK won’t actually let him quit.

TWIST: MLK’s like “kthxbye.” Rustin’s DEVASTATED. You know how hard it is for a middle-aged man with no work-life balance to make friends?? It’s a huge (and historically accurate) bummer to see MLK throw Rustin under the bus.

Sidenote: Speaking of buses, you’ve heard of the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955-6. Did you know Rustin was instrumental in organizing that milestone of desegregation? We’re only ten minutes into the movie and we’re learning so much already!

Now it’s 1963! Rustin’s bringing some relatable clock-in-clock-out energy to his current job at the War Resisters’ League. He’s essentially quit the Movement (not historically accurate, just narratively convenient). But his friend Rachelle Horowitz invites him to a party with the younger, cooler activists. This crowd of whippersnappers includes a generically handsome Sad White Guy who turns out (I had to google) to be Tom Kahn, Rustin’s on-again-off-again secretary and “secretary.” When Tom almost gets into fisticuffs with a Black guy who’s contemptuous of Tom’s white guilt, Rustin swoops in.

Domingo’s Rustin has the kind of charisma that makes nonviolence look cool and hardcore: Go ahead, hotshot, hit ME, I can take it. Hotshot instead scoffs, “You’re irrelevant,” to which Rustin responds unflappably, “It’s Friday night; I’ve been called worse.”

Tom, with whom he goes home, complains that the Movement is too divided to function. You might wonder if this is a legitimate problem that the fifteen million separate civil-rights-related organizations are having or if Tom’s just sore about not receiving an ally cookie, but the movie’s clearly trying to convey the former. Rustin thinks about it for five seconds and says, BAM, I know how to unify us. No, I don’t have time for sex, Tom—put your secretary hat on.

So what’s Rustin’s plan now? Behold:

• organize a nonviolent demonstration

• in Washington DC

• of 100,000+ people

• from all over America

• demanding jobs and freedom, America's two best perks

This would be a rally of record-breaking size. It would bring the factions together. And it’d be an undeniable show of force. This is the social advocacy equivalent of robbing the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the MGM Grand.

Rustin has a brainstorming session with a group of whippersnappers, filling a whiteboard with ideas, including, adorably, “Establish clear demands!” He recruits an elder statesman of the labor movement, A. Philip Randolph, to help him pitch the idea to the NAACP. (IRL, the march was Randolph’s idea; he brought Rustin onboard instead of vice versa.)

But guess who’s still in charge of the NAACP? Chris R—Roy Wilkins. Guess who still hates Rustin’s guts? Roy Wilkins. Guess who withholds the organization’s support, despite Medgar Evers going to bat for Rustin? Roy Ottoway Wilkins (1901-1981). A fun fact he provides: The largest demonstration in DC to date boasted a mere 42,000 white people, who got beaten to a pulp by the cops. Swap white marchers for Black ones, in numbers even within shouting distance of Rustin’s goal, and you can expect all sorts of racist nonsense that could get people killed. Wilkins calls the idea “madness.” Rustin fires back: “Counting on the courts to eradicate racial inequity—THAT’s madness!” If he weren’t committed to nonviolence he would definitely be demonstrating the punchability of Chris Rock’s face by now.

The pitch meeting isn’t a total loss, though! Afterward, at the urinals, Rustin chats up another NAACP member, a (fictional/composite) pastor named Elias, who’s

• hot

• interested

• free to hang after his wife, Claudia, leaves town

A handful of frames later, Claudia’s gone and Elias is loosening up with Rustin at a neighborhood bar. When Elias touches Rustin’s arm and immediately pulls back, Rustin quietly reassures him, “You’re okay… here… this time of night.” This is lowkey a gay bar, the closest thing to a safe space 1960s America can offer them. The relief that radiates through the screen is less about the prospect of physical intimacy—which they do get around to—than about freedom from fear.

Scott has labeled me “pro-affair” in my media consumption, and I am not beating the allegations today. Sorry, Claudia; I was not concerned about you. I wanted to see this closeted man finally get to be himself, and I wanted Rustin to have a nice time. IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK?

Meanwhile, with the NAACP refusing to back him up, Rustin needs another way to make his march happen. He needs support from a giant of the Movement. He needs his ex-BFF, MLK.

Approximately a dozen characters spell this out for him. He keeps stalling until he sees news coverage of police attacking peaceful civil rights demonstrators in Birmingham. A white coworker comments “Shame on Dr. King” for putting the protesters in harm’s way. Rustin’s like ExCUSE me? Did you just blame my ex-bff for violence committed AGAINST HIM *BY THE COPS*?

The moment Rustin pushes back on his colleague’s comments, their boss parachutes in, waving the reverse-racism card—and making some wildly out-of-pocket comments about Rustin’s orientation that you KNOW he’s been mentally workshopping for years, because they slide out effortlessly and apropos of absolutely nothing. To his plea of Just be normal, Rustin replies, “I can’t surrender my differences; the world won’t let me. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.” MIC DROP. And he’s OUT OF THERE, resigning to spend more time with his March on Washington.

Several things happen in quick succession:

• JFK promises to send a civil rights bill to Congress by the end of the summer, so can Black people please stop making him uncomfortable by getting beaten up in public

• Rustin realizes segregationists will water down this bill to the point of uselessness and JFK won’t have the juice to stand for real change unless there’s PRESSURE on him

• Medgar Evers gets assassinated, which I knew would happen but which is still a gut punch and yet another reminder of what’s at stake

• Ella Baker literally tells Rustin, “Go get your friend back”

• Rustin goes to MLK’s house, leads Coretta and the kids in a sing-along to “This Little Light of Mine,” and gets his friend back

And it’s on! The Dream Team has two months to make this march happen and clinch the bill’s passage. But since the march’s other purpose is unifying the Movement, the planning committee includes—you knew this was coming—Roy Wilkins. Wilkins convinces the other members to drop Rustin as committee director, but the new director, Randolph, puts Rustin in charge of everything anyway. The jaunty swiftness with which this plot wrinkle is resolved is beautiful to witness. We don’t have time to dwell on Chris Rock! The clock is TICKING.

Rustin snags office space and assigns all the whippersnappers impossible jobs. Rachelle, who doesn’t even drive, is coordinating transportation. (As a white lady who doesn’t drive I find this inspiring.) Norm Hill is handed enough money for a single bus trip and told to start fundraising nationwide. Rustin tries to sort out march security with the DC police, who actively want him and everything he stands for to fail, but who are no match for his one-liners.

He also gets a mouth-breather call from the FBI and is surveilled by G-men while out and about. Tom’s growing angsty about the messiness of their entanglement, especially since Rustin’s banging Elias now. But the plans for the march are coming together in an upbeat montage!*

Sad TWIST: The gay bar gets raided by the cops. Rustin and Elias barely avoid arrest. Elias is shaken up and worried that this is a divine warning. The situationship drags out awhile longer, but ultimately, Elias ends it and doubles down on self-denial. Rustin tells him, “You may think you’re killing off one part of yourself, but you are killing all of yourself.” That doesn’t convince Elias to give up his congregation, his wife, and his impending baby—and who am I, a straight white lady in 2025, to judge this character for choices I'll never have to make? (Also, tbf, Domingo’s Rustin does not have a good track record as a boyfriend. Closet or no closet, this pairing wasn’t gonna go the distance.)

Next thing we know, Strom F—ing Thurmond is on the radio calling Rustin a “pervert,” because it’s not like he’s got anything better to do with his time. Thurmond is such a hateful freakshow that even Wilkins has Rustin’s back for once. But remember Congressman Powell? He’s like, You’re a liability and shouldn’t be in charge of the march. Rustin’s like, Really? Could a liability do THIS? He and the whippersnappers have arranged the following feats of logistics:

• buses and flights to bring people to DC from all around the country

• security that ISN’T the DC cops (more on that in a sec)

• sound engineering for the speeches

• water stations

• sanitation

• first aid

• a lost and found!!!

• CELEBRITY ENTERTAINMENT

Sidenote: Okay, so, the security. This is wild. Rustin recruits a bunch of Black NYC cops to volunteer as unarmed marshals. He gives them a nonviolence training so they won’t, you know, behave like NYC cops during the march. I can’t say this computes for me through a modern lens. But as a plot point it pays off when the DC police chief threatens to have his goons out in full force and Rustin retorts, “I hope you can find something for them to do, because they will not be needed here.”

Rustin’s like, Admit it: I rock.

But TWIST: Powell drops the word “Pasadena” and Rustin freezes.

Pasadena is where Rustin once got arrested for “lewd conduct.” Pasadena shatters any plausible deniability he or the Movement has about his orientation. Pasadena, he thinks, is his kryptonite.

Except… TWIST: Randolph and MLK both tell Powell to shut TF up. Crisis averted!

Until the RETWISTENING: Powell feeds Strom F—ing Thurmond the Pasadena intel, and Thurmond broadcasts it on CSPAN Radio. (He did in fact enter Rustin’s whole arrest file into the Congressional record!!!)

Rustin goes straight to MLK and lays out a series of bangers:

• “We do the work of our oppressors by oppressing ourselves.”

• “What they really want to destroy is all of us coming together and demanding this country change.”

• “On the day that I was born Black I was also born a homosexual. [The Movement leaders] either believe in freedom and justice for all, or they do not.”

And he tells MLK that this time, if people want him gone, they’ll have to fire him.

Back at the office he’s heartened to find his team still working on arrangements for the march. Tom offers support, and Rustin tells him that even though they’re not endgame, he loves Tom like family. Which is still not something your boss should be saying to you, but it’s an improvement over their previous dynamic, from an HR standpoint.

Now for the twist that untwists it all: MLK and Randolph go on TV to say Don’t mess with our friend. They stand by him. The Movement stands united. Heck yeah!!! (Some liberties were taken here, but the gist of the Thurmond subplot is fairly accurate. To this day, many people think Rustin’s role in the Movement has been downplayed because he was openly gay.)

And BAM, it’s march day! Setup on the National Mall kicks off before dawn and lasts all morning. I’m a sucker for preparation montages* so I clapped like a seal for this sequence. Registration! Sign making! Singing! PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. (Historical footage is slotted in to show the scale; around 250,000 people showed up!) Da’Vine Joy Randolph, as Mahalia Jackson, brings down the house/Mall. There’s a blip of MLK’s speech followed by a long moment of appreciative eye contact between MLK and Rustin.

Afterward, a bunch of the organizers get invited to the White House. John Lewis says, “Bayard should be with us,” but Rustin’s reconciled to staying behind the scenes. While the others leave, he pitches in with post-event cleanup. (More historical accuracy!) A postscript informs us of exactly two important later developments: that the Civil Rights Act passed and that Rustin eventually found true love. HECK yeah.

Plot, pacing, and structure: 4. This was a ride. There was, inevitably, much surface-level treatment of complicated material, and the scenes didn’t always flow naturally from one plot thread to the next—I sometimes felt like I was watching three separate mini-movies chopped up and interspersed with one another—but all of it held my attention.

Characters: 3. Candidly, I didn’t know who half these people were until I Wiki-d them. But that’s on me! We should know them! While this movie didn’t do most of them justice, it did prompt me to learn more about them. And Domingo's powerhouse performance makes Rustin totally compelling, transcending some uneven writing to almost singlehandedly turn the movie into more than the sum of its parts.

Historical accuracy: 4. Most complaints on this front boil down to the limitations of a 106-minute movie. Nearly everything’s rooted in fact, down to Rustin quoting his grandmother’s response when she found out he was dating men: “I suppose that’s what you need to do.”***

Themes: 5. Are these on the nose? Sure. But sometimes it’s worthwhile to state the obvious: The people do have the power. Don’t split! You needn’t literally punch N*zis to stand up to them. That little light of yours—let it shine, even when you’re scared, even when this country tries to snuff it out. There’s work to do and there’s a job for each of us. And Strom Thurmond is in hell, roasting like a pig on a spit.

*This movie has more montages than I could count. I love montages. I don’t care if that makes me basic.

**Baker, Anna Hedgeman, and Eleanor Holmes pop up repeatedly in a “Don’t forget that Black women are a vital part of the Movement” way, but they really deserve movies of their own.

***This is why bigots never get off the hook for being “products of their time.” Julia Davis Rustin was born in 1873 and still managed to know what was up.