Opinion: Why did seeing a strong Black woman on ‘The Bear’ make me cry?
On my sofa watching Season 2 of “The Bear,” I suddenly got tears in my eyes. In the hit TV show, the character Sydney Adamu, a Black unapologetically ambitious sous-chef, is attempting to help the show’s hunky, emotionally touchy male protagonist transform his dead brother’s sandwich shop into a Michelin-star restaurant.
Sydney was born around the year I graduated from college. We have decades between us. Her youthful overconfidence felt unfamiliar and a tad naïve. So why did she make me cry?
I’ve often been called strong-willed. Driven. Independent. Perhaps too much so. And true, I need significant space in my life for my own interests and creative work. I’ve also been unattached for years, which I’ve been told is partly a consequence of these facets of my character. A boyfriend once told me I work too hard. Another said I’d be easier to date if I were “less smart.”
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Sydney has brains and a relentless devotion to work, which feels revelatory considering the show never admonishes her for it.
Sydney has been presented only as a platonic mate for Carmy, the protagonist, though they are intimately entangled in the soul-baring intensity of kitchen work, and she asserts a brand of female partnering we rarely get to see in popular culture. When Carmy flubs, Sydney challenges him. When she has better ideas, she speaks up. She recognizes his immaturity, selfishness and even his demons, and rarely lets him off the hook. She knows what he’s capable of and holds him to a commensurate standard.
Many well-meaning male pals have told me that all men want are women who will put up with their, er, “stuff,” which suggests women such as Sydney rank low on the desirability scale. Maybe I sensed a latent affinity with Sydney. Mostly, she was just fun to watch.
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Until Claire showed up.
My heart sank when Claire appeared as a love interest for Carmy. We all know the type. She’s the fantasy girlfriend we meet in lots of contemporary stories about love: accessibly pretty (not to mention, white) so as not to overwhelm or threaten her guy; self-sacrificing and baggage-free so he never has to show interest in her inner life. Instead, he receives her constant attention to his concerns, and Claire is patient with his flaws so he never has to address them, and she remains tolerant of crummy behavior so he never has to change.
Seeing Claire solidified my kinship with Sydney and, considering the somewhat heated public responses from viewers to Claire, I’m not alone. A married friend told me she prefers seeing “a Black woman voice her ideas and lead,” and that Sydney “makes me wish I’d been like her in my 20s.” An unmarried friend loves that Sydney shows “how much harder a woman has to work to be acknowledged and accepted.” Seems more women, single or otherwise, see themselves as Sydneys.
Over the years, I’ve moved through phases of acceptance of my solo status — this is fine, this is hell — though now, I’m enjoying my solitude. The arrival of Claire picked at the wound, and I thought: I’m no Claire, and this is why I’m alone.
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But the show takes an unexpected turn when Carmy feels panicky. What calms him? Thoughts of Sydney, not the eternally accommodating fantasy girl. It’s the woman who sees herself as his equal who helps Carmy regulate himself and makes him feel comfortable in his own skin again. The woman who sees his “stuff” and doesn’t tolerate it. The woman with big talent, smarts and goals she sinks her teeth into. And she’s Black?
I wept. I’d never seen anything like it.
A man once told me I didn’t seem the type to settle down. I imagine he meant I didn’t “need a man” to build a life. I don’t. But I do need someone. We all do. Life gets tough, and having a strong partner tell you everything will be all right helps you through.
So, when Sydney later expresses insecurities and Carmy tells her he won’t let her fail, I thought, “This is my favorite show of all time.”
When we see strong-willed, self-determined women, particularly women of color, presented as symbols of female desirability whom men should aspire to make themselves worthy of, paradigms shift in the culture. When we consider women who follow their callings just as admirable as those who follow their hearts, we all win.
More Sydneys, please.
Laura Warrell is a writer based in Los Angeles and author of the novel “Sweet, Soft, Plenty Rhythm,” which will be released in paperback this month. @LKWarrell
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