Most Monday nights I’m holed up in my apartment, elbow-deep in a bag of family-sized Ruffles, spending intermissions between episodes of "Roseanne" on Netflix visiting my ex-girlfriend’s Facebook page (she is so much happier than I am). But this past Monday night was time for a change, and it was the Force that guided me from the dark, damp and Dagobah-like state of my bedroom to the buzz of Mother’s Pub and Grill just a block away. You know, the Force. The thing that gives a Jedi his or her power. That energy field created by all living things. The thing that surrounds us, penetrates us and binds the galaxy together.
Jerseys and backward caps gulped, chowed and fidgeted in their stools to the spectacle of Monday night football as I walked in. The myriad patrons taking advantage of the wings special surrounded my senses and mocked my hunger and lack of funds. But the clashing of fresh cold pints enticed me more. So, spending my last $5 on a Spaten, I made my way over to the big screen to note seven football-seconds before halftime. The main event of the evening. Two actual minutes went by when finally, a diminishing in the bar’s clamor was accompanied by a fade to black, signaling the genesis of greatness I had been waiting for.
Vast desert landscapes and fruitful ones alike materialized, both promising something familiar yet distinct. The whizzing of Tie fighters and X-Wings escorted by the supremacy of John Williams’ score. The advent of new heroes and heroines with the appearance of the known and sagacious. The Millennium Falcon! Lightsabers! All of it and more came together to rekindle my love for the most glorious space opera of our time. Excitement does not seem like an apt word to describe the feeling. I put back my last bit of beer — my own personal tip of the cap to the communal applause and merriment that followed.
Star Wars is back in full force, and with it a peerless pride shared by a community of some of the best fans the world will ever know. The debut of the "The Force Awakens" trailer is bringing together not only friends and fans, but boomers, nerds and — as Monday night exemplified — even those with jockish inclinations.
Given how many conversations I’ve started using "Star Wars" as an icebreaker — why bother with charm when there’s "Star Wars?" — it has been hard to understand the recent backlash against the movie, with some claiming the upcoming film has an anti-white agenda due to the main character being black. Racist critics of the film took to tweeting #BoycottStarWarsVII in overwhelmingly stupid futility due to what they perceive as a sort of affirmative action in the casting of the lead role.
Let me be clear: It’s not difficult to encounter racism. Although many would like to insist it existed a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, it’s still alive and well in our land of the free. In our schools, in our police precincts and police vans, on the exits of our highways and in our local governments.
It’s just hard to grasp the nature of the racist Star Wars fan. There’s a whole fantastical universe out there to be immersed in. How does white power not get checked at the door? Why is the myopia of reverse-racism attempting to coincide with a universe so infinite and full of adventure? No doubt these are questions that need answering by the prejudiced patrons of sci-fi. It’s doubtful their temper tantrum will amount to much, but I’ve never been one to tell angered racists the odds.
In the meantime, a request: Please do continue to boycott the film. The rest of us would enjoy our experience that much more at the premiere of "The Force Awakens" without having to sit next to any racist idiots.
Justin Ford is a Santa Fe journalism junior. His column usually appears on Tuesdays.
