Gibran

THE FURIOUS is basically Asian TAKEN. Except instead of geriatric Liam Neeson mumbling about a particular set of skills, we get a reformed kung fu demon whose daughter gets snatched, forcing him to turn a pedo trafficking network into flesh mulch. Wild ride. I’ll watch this formula in any language. Kid gets taken. Parent has dormant hands. Police are decoration. Bad men discover knees are optional. It also got me thinking: what versions can we still mine? 1. The all-Black reboot. Think RANSOM (1996) with a Jack and Jill family whose wealth came from locking up Black people on the poor side of their Tier B coastal elite town. Then their little girl gets snatched by the same ecosystem “big poppa” helped over-police, underfund, and rename a charter school after. **TAKEN: BUPPIE BLOOD DEBT** 2. The prestige gay-dad cut. A wealthy gay couple, glass-box house, rescue greyhound, adopted Asian child. Kid gets snatched. Moist palmed dad reveals he used to do private security in countries without extradition. Husband handles AirTags, shared calendars, and emotional devastation. **TAKEN: LIVE, LAUGH, LIABILITY.** 3. The HBCU Homecoming version. Somebody’s kid gets snatched during Howard Homecoming, which means the investigation immediately becomes a FEMA level horny disaster zone powered by brown liquor, wing grease, and bad credit. Dad goes from mild mannered alum in a quarter-zip to John Wick with student loan debt. By sunrise, half the kidnappers are drinking meals through a straw, six unrelated affairs have been exposed, somebody’s white girlfriend is crying in an Uber Black, and one man is barefoot outside a food truck whispering “This city changed me.” **TAKEN: YARD WORK.** THE FURIOUS knows the sacred math: stolen child + damaged parent - useful police = morally necessary assault. Not high art. Just beautiful parental malpractice with subtitles.

Raw.

I was on a date once at an unnamed, violently mediocre DC brunch spot… the kind with grass on the wall, $29 shrimp and grits, and a neon sign that said something like *Good Vibes Only* despite the food tasting like Bossip headline. Topic of movies came up. Naturally, because I am sick and spiritually unemployable, I mentioned Paul Verhoeven’s SHOWGIRLS. The young, well moisturized sister across from me called it “horrible.” Strike one. Strikes two and three came later when she said 9/11 was a hoax and revealed she was a Kevin Samuel’s acolyte, but honestly the SHOWGIRLS take had already done irreparable damage. Those who know me know I tend to have a binary way of thinking, especially when it comes to dating: -Emotionally abusive AKAs vs physically abusive Deltas. -Career-driven women my age who “don’t have time to cook” and have a fridge full of Factor meals and Diet Cokes vs younger women who cook everything on high heat like they’re trying to dominate the skillet. -Lawyers with an overbearing fear of letting daddy down and a courtroom addiction to being right vs creatives bad at math who have not filed taxes this decade but do know the moon sign and time of birth of every man who ruined them. Well, my little #BlackWomanInTech, add this one to the list: Women who recognize SHOWGIRLS as a deranged, neon-soaked, coke dusted satirical masterpiece about ambition, capitalism, performance, sex, exploitation, and the American dream eating pussy in a dingy Las Vegas dressing room vs. Women who call it “horrible” because they think a movie being trashy means it doesn’t know exactly what it’s doing. And that, beloved, is not a difference in taste. That is a values mismatch.