Dear White People Page #3

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16 INT. ARMSTRONG/PARKER DINING HALL - NIGHT 16

The hall is packed with STUDENTS - stylish and mostly Black.

Helmut West watches from the back.

TROY:

Artie, you know your success ratio

with the ladies went up like thirty

percent after I started edging you

up dog, come on. You went from ODB

to Trey Songz!

12.

The audience is in STITCHES at this last line. Everyone

except Sam, Reggie and their crew of afro’d bohemian

disciples (who we’ll call the BOFROS). Sam records the

proceedings with a vintage Super 8 camera.

REGGIE:

That’s his platform? Haircuts?

SAM:

Oofta is as Oofta does.

Coco, sneaks through the door. She’s got the eyes of Helmut

on her. What is he doing here? As Coco breaks eye contact she

sits in the only open spot next to...

SAM (CONT’D)

Just because we’re colored don’t

mean we run on colored people time.

COCO:

Boycotting hot combs don’t make you

an expert on “colored people” boo.

Coco wafts her silky hair over her shoulders and sits.

TROY:

No but seriously, I care about you

guys. I care about this house. We

had a great year last year and if

it ain’t broke...

Troy basks in his applause. Coco eats him up with her eyes.

Sam doesn’t want to get up - her breathing gets heavier.

REGGIE:

Just pretend like you’re in the

booth. Just you and the mic.

SAM:

Hate this sh*t.

As Sam gets up and passes Troy -

TROY:

You really think you can take this

from me?

SAM:

Troy we live in a world where

there’s a Big Momma’s House 3. I

don’t have a chance in hell. Thank

God.

13.

Sam grabs the mic. Her voice shakes before the silent crowd.

SAM (CONT’D)

Troy my brother, it’s broke.

The BoFros cheer and make noise on each line.

SAM (CONT’D)

Troy’s a legacy kid. And yet it’s

under his watch that Armstrong /

Parker, the bastion of Black

culture here was gutted. By the

Randomization of Housing Act.

Second years of color no longer

have a say in where they go. The

culture that’s been fostered in

this house for two decades will be

wiped out in two years.

Troy looks to see if the speech is working. As Sam warms up -

SAM (CONT’D)

This wasn’t motivated by a desire

to mix things up. Bring about

racial and socioeconomic harmony.

No, the Black kids are sitting

together in the proverbial

cafeteria and they must be up to no

good.

Coco’s eyes are in the back of her head.

SAM (CONT’D)

We sit together to protect

ourselves. Over a century of houses

grouped by sports affiliations,

political leanings, majors, you

name it. Black folks get their own

house, suddenly we got a problem?

Students look at each other stunned. Are they turning? Sam

delivers the next one directly at Sofia and Troy.

SAM (CONT’D)

This Act doesn’t affect the other

houses like it does ours. There are

plenty of trustees, former coaches,

and presidents watching out for the

others. All we have is a Dean who’d

rather please his massa -

TROY:

-- Yo that’s enough of that Sam --

14.

SAM:

-- then stand up for his own. Look,

I know ya’ll ain’t voting for me.

Ya’ll ain’t ready and I didn’t come

here for that. The Black Student

Union and I have brought a petition

to repeal the Randomization of

Housing Act. I plan on bringing it

to the President and together we

can bring Black back to Manchester.

It’ll be by the door.

Sam sits as claps trickle from the crowd. The BoFros go crazy

-give her daps and all sorts of praise.

MARTIN, 20, a gentle erudite giant of a football player with

neat braids tucked under a Fedora raises a hand.

MARTIN:

I assume everyone has the app I

created by now?

REGGIE:

(aside)

It’s a child’s app...

MARTIN:

Good. Voting may commence.

Everyone takes out smart phones. Reggie hides his from view

as he punches something in.

Troy spots the white Sophomores he greeted from before who

give him a head nod. Troy’s got this. After a moment...

MARTIN (CONT’D)

Okay. Looks like we’ve got

ourselves a winner.

(devastated)

Sam White?

The blood drains from Sam’s face and Troy’s smile plummets

into the floor as the two turn to look at each other.

TROY & SAM

Oh sh*t.

Reggie’s grin is from ear to ear as Helmut walks over and

slips a card to a still stunned Sam. Coco watches him go.

17 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 17

Right on the heels of Helmut’s exit is...

15.

COCO:

So that’s what you’re looking for?

HELMUT:

I’m looking for good TV sister.

COCO:

I think I’d be good TV.

HELMUT:

You’re at a great school, getting a

great education. Be good at that.

COCO:

I am. And when I graduate early

with an Economics degree from

Manchester it will be the crowning

achievement of my Black middle

class parents’ ambitions.

HELMUT:

Conflict is a commodity in my

industry. Sam’s got it. Do you?

COCO:

So you want me to start a fight.

HELMUT:

(exactly)

I don’t want you to do anything you

wouldn’t otherwise do.

Helmut hands her his card. A fire sparks in Coco as he exits.

He contemplates her. Fights a growing smile.

18 INT. DEAN’S OFFICE - DAY 18

A fireplace rages behind Lionel who stares at the floor while

the message plays over speaker phone.

SPEAKER:

...bigger the dick the less you’ll

have to pay me to ssssuck it.

Dean Fairbank’s mind ticks away behind a concerned glare.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

Most everything’s locked up, but

we’ll find another residence to

move you to. Third time’s a charm.

(off Lionel’s sigh)

What about Armstrong / Parker?

16.

LIONEL:

I don’t know...

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

I might have an opening. Maybe it’d

be good to be around...you know.

LIONEL:

Dean. The worst thing about high

school, and believe me it was a

long list, were the Black kids.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

Maybe it’s in your head. Sure,

sometimes our folks can be

intolerant around people like you.

Homo --

LIONEL:

-- I don’t believe in labels.

Fairbanks just smiles. This is a sore spot and he backs off.

Lionel glares up at a poster above Fairbank’s desk: Students

of all races on the steps of Ellington Library including Troy

with the phrase “MANCHESTER: WHERE YOU BELONG” printed below.

Troy’s huge smile seems to mock him.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

You like jazz Lionel? Manchester’s

like jazz you know.

LIONEL:

This is a research school.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

And jazz is tension. The interplay

of improvised solos all creating

one song. Your problem is you’ve

got no instrument. No major, no

affiliations, no solo son.

LIONEL:

I submit articles to the

Independent Observer.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

No one reads the Independent

Observer, my point is are you

playing swing or bebop?

LIONEL:

You’re mixing metaphors.

17.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

Are you a sax or are you a trumpet?

LIONEL:

I hate jazz.

Fairbanks checks his watch. All out of ideas.

DEAN FAIRBANKS:

I’ll do what I can. Not a word of

this in the Observer okay?

LIONEL:

What’s it matter? No one reads it.

19 EXT. MANCHESTER - DAY 19

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