The Color Purple: “I Ain’t Cryin’!” (The First Challenge)

I find it interesting how people will create some bizarre act, daring others on the internet to do it, and it works. One of the more memorable viral “challenges” I remember was the ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) Ice Bucket Challenge. Remember all of those people getting doused with ice water (including myself)?

Well, it raised over $115M for ALS, a neurodegenerative illness also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Then more challenges came along, with not-so-noble intentions. Not surprisingly, they got stranger and wilder, eventually becoming considerably dangerous. Among them were the Fire Challenge, Choke Challenge, Tide Pod Challenge, Milk Crate Challenge, etc. Yeah, they get crazier and crazier as time passes.

But if you ask me, the most difficult challenge ever was the one that happened years before the internet became a thing. Many of you remember it by one name or another, but I knew it as the “Color Purple – I Ain’t Cryin'” challenge.

Fueled by the dramatic 1985 movie, “The Color Purple”, based on the Alice Walker book of the same title, all you had to do was make it through the movie without crying. It was that simple.

It was no surprise that many of the ladies attending the movie went prepared, with tissue in their purses. But the men? No, we weren’t stupid enough to take dates to see it, lest we risk discovery, succumbing to the effects of the emotional rollercoaster that Steven Spielberg and Whoopi Goldberg put us through. For the men, the real dare was sitting with the fellas and surviving the 2 1/2-hour ordeal with dry eyes.

Here’s what happened to us/me when we played:

The Color Purple: “I Ain’t Cryin’!” (The First Challenge)

Tallahassee, Florida – 1986

A large group of male buddies meet up with me at the Varsity Movie theater, which at the time only charged $1 for movies that had already had their theatrical run and were no longer current.

The theater is packed, primarily with 2nd and 3rd time movie-goers and yes, those participating in the challenge. Sitting in one row, we all line the seats towards the back.

As we sit, patiently awaiting the movie trailers and opening credits, we all pass our $5 bets to one person who has tagged along as the judge (who’d already seen the movie). His job is to score us, hold the money and confirm the winner. He had already admitted to crying and confessed that he probably wouldn’t make it through another viewing without doing so again.

Wimp.

The pot would be given to the guy who makes it through the movie without breaking down. If more than one survives, the winnings will be split among them.

Now if you know me, you know that there’s always some sort of motivation for me beyond the initial incentive. In this case, it was the two fine ass girls sitting on my right.

And there is absolutely NO way I am going to cry in front of THEM. This money is mine!

And if you TRULY know me, you also know that in the mid 80s, my antics often mirrored those of the ignorant, or the assholes. This time, I was a little of both. You see, back then, my “ignorant ass” never once stopped to think that a casual tear might actually draw a bit of attention or admiration from either or both of these lovely ladies. But let’s move past that. The theater lights are dimming. It’s show time…

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I will give brief descriptions of the memorable scenes, just in case you need a reminder (it HAS been over 30 years, you know…).

…and as always, Here Be Spoilers (if you haven’t seen the original movie, I strongly suggest you save this blog until such time as you have).

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The Color Purple revolves around the character Celie, played by young Desreta Jackson and later Whoopi Goldberg as the adult version. She is “given” by her father to a man known simply as “Mistah” (Danny Glover), forcing her to leave her home and her sister Nettie. It is a generally sad tale consisting of her many years of struggle, living in a physically, emotionally and sexually abusive relationship with a man who actually wanted her younger and more attractive sister, but is forced to settle for her.

Anyway…

The first tense moment occurs when Mistah tells Celie to keep one of his screaming children (from a previous marriage) silent as she attempts to comb his hair. After snapping “I can’t. It hurts her!” Celie is suddenly and unexpectedly struck by Mistah for talking back in his house.

No tears from us fellas, but collective shock.

Then, the first truly challenging moment occurs. Nettie comes to live with them shortly after running away from home to escape the continuous sexual advances of her own father, much to Mistah’s fiendish approval and anticipated pleasure. She is eventually approached by Mistah, who tries to rape her on her way to school. After successfully defending against his attempt, she later fights desperately to stay as he separates her from Celie and banishes her from his home. As Mistah throws rocks at her she suddenly reaches outward and screams, “Whyyyyyyyyy????”.

Meanwhile, a powerless Celie can only watch in shock and horror, tearfully yelling for Nettie to write (her).

…and down go the first two challenge combatants, who lower their heads simultaneously, covering their obvious tears.

Two down.

Weeks later, when the mail arrives, a heartbroken Celie asks Mistah if any letters have arrived for her. Mistah threateningly walks towards until she is backed into the wall. He warns that she will never get any mail from her sister and that he will know if she checks the mailbox. He later tells her that he is going out and to have dinner ready upon his return. Tears streaming down her face, she weakly answers, “Yes, sir” before walking away dejected.

“Sniff!”

All of our heads turn towards the sound, giggling in unison as yet another challenge contestant wipes his eyes, forfeiting his share and chance at the prize.

Not too long before the hour and a half mark, Harpo’s (Mistah’s son) short-tempered wife Sofia punches a white man in town who has slapped her for talking back to his wife. The moment she realizes her terrible mistake in the midst of the converging angry mob, she clenches her fists in regret and acceptance before yelling to observing juke joint guitar player Swain, “Get my kids outta here!”

I struggle because I am so locked into the scene, knowing I am about to witness a violent racial clash. Feeling terrified for Sofia and her impending doom, I press my lips together, bracing for the worst. Thankfully, the moment is reduced to a single blow to her head (from the butt of the sheriff’s gun), rendering her unconscious.

Not that that was anything to be thankful about.

In the subsequent scene, we find Sofia, emerging from her jail cell years later, beaten down both physically and psychologically. A shadow of her former self.

None of us laugh as one of our crew bends over and whimpers softly while another gets up and walks out to refresh himself in the men’s room.

I’m too angry to cry.

But I am joyful because I’m one of the last three survivors.

Far beyond the two-hour mark, I know it’s in the bag. I know a climactic moment is on the horizon, but having seen both of my final two competitors tilt their heads back a few times, I figure they will cave before I will. All I have to do is outlast them and the money is mine. At worst, split it with them. Hell, if just one of them collapses, I get half of the jackpot.

The moment does indeed arrive…

Shug Avery, estranged from her disapproving father (the community church pastor) for her promiscuous lifestyle and pursuit of a career singing suggestive secular music, bursts into her home church during service, demanding (in song) and receiving his long-sought forgiveness.

Down goes Frazier!

They both walk out, which thrills me although I cannot understand why someone would walk out of a movie. When you return, you’ve missed too much, if not something important. Might as well sit through it because you’re all a bunch of biz-nitches in my opinion.

Victory! The final two have fallen! I have won, outlasting the best of them, thus the money is mine! I fight hard not to scream out in jubilation as I reach over to get my money.

Our judge just sits there, arms folded, smiling.

“Hey man,” I whisper. “Gimme my money!”

“Movie ain’t over yet! YOU gotta make it til the end!” he replies rather loudly, causing others in the audience to shush us in frustration. They had long since tired of our many disturbances.

I cut my eyes at him and shake my head, irritated that he is prolonging the inevitable. Exhaling with obvious impatience, I sit back in the chair as my losing companions chuckle through their infrequent sniffs.

I glance over at the girls who are both sobbing miserably, as they had been throughout the movie. I want to say something, but decide against it, particularly since they now know about our wager. I’m not sure if they are waiting to see who would win or have written us all off as a bunch of “ignorant ass” fools.

Probably both.

No point in finding out.

I do learn that they both had seen it and were there to enjoy the movie. For a dollar.

As the movie approaches the end, I can’t help but notice the constant appearance of heads in my peripheral view as my compadres lean forward, turning to watch me. They are just as interested in my state of being as they are the ending of the movie.

It’s the fourth quarter, and everyone is waiting for me to fumble the ball in the game’s final moments.

Not today, fellas. I’m about to get paid.

Arms folding as I recline in my chair, I smile triumphantly, coasting through the final moments. I think about how I will invite the girls next to me for an after-movie trip to Godfather’s, Hungry Howie’s or Gumby’s pizza.

And then it happens.

In the movie’s climax, we find Celie, standing on the porch of her new home with Shug, Sofia, Harpo and others (free from Mistah) as a vehicle approaches.

A small entourage exits, adorned in flowing robes of various bold and vivid colors.

It is Nettie, who after decades away from her beloved sister, has returned home from Africa, where she has spent most of her life.

Celie shrieks, “NettiEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
Nettie calls out in return, “CELIE!”

They run to each other, slower than they would have the last time they saw each other, but with all the speed their aged frames can muster…

…just as I run out of the theater with all the speed my young body contains, stumbling over the feet of the girls on my way out.

Not having completely left the area, I peek back through the theater doors to watch the end of the movie as the tears stream down my face.

Correction, my broke-ass face.

For there would be no money. No reason to ask the girls to join me.

Not that they would, considering how hard they were laughing along with the rest of the guys…

…and the nearby movie-goers surrounding us.

It was the Color Purple challenge. And I had failed, right along with the rest of the biz-nitches.

I don’t get the girls numbers that night, but I see them a few years later while working as store manager at Jeans West clothing store at Governor’s Square Mall. We instantly recognize each other and actually hug. In fact, after that comical so-called reunion, whenever either or both come through the mall with their friends, they make it a point to stop by the store to say hello and share the reminiscent laughs.

Not that I mind at all.

I never turn down the opportunity to meet new people.

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Epilogue

Columbus, OH – 2023

I’m sitting up, watching The Color Purple for the umpteenth time. Celie is looking at her son and daughter in wordless joy before they all tearfully hug…

The Color Purple Challenge is long over.

…but I’m still crying.

Like what you read? Have something to share about your first time watching The Color Purple? Leave a comment in the section below. And be sure to sign up at the bottom for email notification of future posts from Kenny’s Camera, Cooking & Crazy Confessions at ZootsBlogSpot!