Dark and Tender: Healing Black Men with The CUT Project

Aaron Johnson (he/him) is on a mission, the type of undertaking that comes to you through lived experiences. I had the opportunity to interview Aaron after Ben Wilson (he/him), the producer of and participant in the short film Dark and Tender, invited me to attend the film’s screening at the Seattle Black Film Festival. The film, which aims to be a larger documentary, tells the story of the CUT Project.

The film and Aaron’s work hope to begin the process of dismantling the ‘black brute’ stereotype by revealing the vulnerable sides of Black men. The stereotype, pervasive and propagandized, must be dismantled from within as well. And the method developed over time, through work with fellow Black men and work within, through the years of grief after the death of his father, came to be platonic touch. So simple yet so heartbreakingly complex.

“When was the last time you experienced three minutes of platonic touch?” Some of the men Aaron asked couldn’t think of a time since childhood. Nostalgic stories of childhood memories with fathers and grandfathers came to mind for many. But the similar stories of how and when that affection stopped often revealed a deeper problem. As they got older, homophobic biases made receiving affection much more difficult. Or due to the cultural and systemic oppression and barriers placed before Black men in our country, their fathers went to prison or died.

The results were clear (ish). If platonic touch was the balm, then it needed to be administered by Black men. The men needed the opportunity, space, and encouragement to be vulnerable with each other. To feel a touch that says, “I see you. You matter to me.”

At the screening, I had the pleasure of sitting next to Ben. I greatly appreciated the invitation to attend and write about my experience. I thought I was coming for a film review. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Prentis Hemphill and Aaron Johnson on stage

The Evergreen Echo

Before the film began, Prentis Hemphill (they/them), an activist and somatic therapist who would be facilitating the Q&A, led us in a grounding exercise. Together we breathed, checked in with our bodies, and made space for the film we were about to experience.

On screen, we saw the CUT project underway. Black men opening up about their discomfort around platonic touch and intimacy with other men. Tenderness was a foreign concept. Tenderness—as defined by Aaron—is the area between platonic and sexual. With most men being denied even three minutes of thoughtful, platonic touch the diagnosis was ‘touch starvation’. More words with more definitions needed to be established to move forward. The men were starved of tenderness and physical vulnerability. To reach and more importantly understand this diagnosis, they had to learn their ‘touch story’ or the history of how they felt about touch and why.

A lot of those feelings were steeped in centuries of systemic stereotyping, bias, and racist violence. Even studies of epigenetics have begun to track the health impacts of oppressive propaganda and the way it poisons society to the detriment of the marginalized. Early in the film the topic of lynching came up. Aaron made it clear that in his opinion there is no way to talk about Black tenderness without looking at the history of lynching and the ways is undercut, policed, and terrorized the Black community.

Additionally, the ‘Black Brute’ stereotype was a post-slavery narrative that validated and justified violence towards Black men. This created an environment where Black men were denied the human need to be touched or even listened to. Their bodies were subjected to violence and hard labor. This perpetuated not only the violence against Black men, but also the violence between them. It created a distance, unbridged even between fathers and sons, that prevented them from being supported through the pain and trauma being inflicted.

The film allowed us a glimpse at what Aaron is trying to do with The Chronically UnderTouched Project. We witnessed some of the strategies he employed such as encouraging the men to hold hands, learn what type of touch they needed to feel safe, having them tuck each other in and be held in whatever way they require. It allowed the participants to be able to let go and experience being cared for. The project began with no resources and no experimental options; it was up to Aaron and the brave volunteers to build the knowledge for the next person who asked these same questions.

“What is touch?” established a baseline of touch as a concept—the parts of us in contact before our skin ever connects. The project sets the stage for conversations about how Black people hold each other. Prentis used the phrase “reimagining things that we inherited,” and I was struck by how perfectly they encapsulated the work that is decolonization. Prentis had a lot of striking commentary through their facilitation (some of which I may discuss in future articles) and they brought up the element of queer love that forces one to be thoughtful.

Queerness means existing in a way that encourages authentic connection, and it also shapes one’s perspective. Queerness, like marginalization, forces one to think differently and more intentionally than the dominating culture. The prevailing assumptions and expectations don’t work, thus communication and creativity are required in order to relate to others and the world around us.

The Black community has been inundated with messaging that leaves us “confused by the culture that dominates our knowing, putting constraints on value rather than allowing us to exist inherently” (Prentis Hemphill). This messaging causes hopelessness and—as we have learned so far through Aaron’s work—forces the reflexive response of Black men believing they don’t need touch. It forces them to engage with grief in secret, rather than in community.

The film showcases the actual progress being made, one man at a time, through workshops hosted by Aaron. I had the opportunity to attend a workshop and witness this work in person the following day, and I look forward to sharing my experience later.

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Dark and Tender is available to the public for $15 a ticket, which helps fund the ongoing CUT Project.