I refer to my Hollywood experience as moving up to the Majors from the Minors and not being allowed to bat.  Yes, we know you’re capable.  We know you’re able.  We know you’re damn good and will humbly admit you deserve a fair shot.  BUT we aren’t going to facilitate that opportunity unless you play by our rules.  I had a professor/acting department chair tell me I would not make it in Hollywood because, “I wasn’t willing to play the game.”  This accompanied a conversation about how it would be in the best interest of all involved if I went along with letting them (the school) take advantage of me/my work.  That’s playing the game.  Being black, being a minority is one continuous freaking game.  You’re playing even when you’re not playing.  You’re jumping through hoops, shucking and jiving all with hopes of getting ahead.  All whilst knowing your fate lies not in your abilities but whether or not you’re accepted.  In layman’s terms there are levels to this shit.  And you don’t move from one level to the next without it being decreed so.  Period.  That’s the game.  Think Running Man the 80’s cult film.  You have to survive people trying to ascend the ladder, people in fear of losing their footing/place, those envious fellows that lack the drive/ambition/skill to climb.  All while driving while black?  The film Get Out wasn’t a horror film.  It wasn’t a drama, or comedy it was a documentary.  I was the protagonist.  It was my life.  And I’m still strapped to that chair picking cotton.