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Small Screen: Netflix documentary delves into racial identity

NEW YORK — There’s unlikely to be a more polarizing movie this year than The Rachel Divide.
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Rachel Dolezal, the controversial former president of the NAACP chapter in Spokane, Washington, is the central character in The Rachel Divide. The documentary debuts Friday on Netflix.

NEW YORK — There’s unlikely to be a more polarizing movie this year than The Rachel Divide.

The documentary, which premièred Monday at Tribeca Film Festival before streaming on Netflix Friday, attempts to understand Rachel Dolezal, the controversial former president of the NAACP chapter in Spokane, Washington, who was born white but identifies as black. The film traces her life since 2015, when her parents told a local news station that she has no African heritage. She resigned shortly after, amid backlash for reporting that she was the victim of multiple hate crimes, although a subsequent police investigation did not support her claims.

“It feels like I’ve had this trial by the public,” says Dolezal, 40, at the beginning of the movie, which finds her unemployed and pregnant with her second child, Langston (named for African-American poet Langston Hughes). Unable to leave her house without attracting unwanted attention, she spends most of her days creating art inspired by black and African themes, and writing her memoir, In Full Colour: Finding My Place in A Black and White World.

Like Dolezal herself, Divide raises more questions than answers. She was born to parents she describes as puritanical and religious, and says they physically and emotionally abused her and her adopted siblings, most of whom are black. She explains how she began to see herself as black as a young girl and felt a unique kinship with her brothers and sisters, one of whom, Izaiah, she later got custody of and raised as her son.

“While I may have looked like Pippi Longstocking, that’s not how I felt,” Dolezal insists. In 2006, she began her “transition” to being black: getting spray tans, and wearing wigs and weaves to alter her appearance. When asked about her parentage, she referred to Albert Wilkerson — a close friend who is black, but is not biologically related — as her father. And when questioned how she identifies in an interview, she declared that she is “transracial,” arguing that race is a “social construct.”

At times, Divide asks you to sympathize with Dolezal. “People only saw me as I am for a few years of my life,” she laments, noting how she only wants to continue her work as a social justice warrior and with the Black Lives Matter movement. Even more so, the film shows the toll the controversy has taken on Izaiah and her biological son, Franklin, who at 13, says that “if any of this had to happen, I wish it happened when I was older.”

Clocking in at nearly two hours, Divide is a messy, overlong film that presents the various contradictions of Dolezal, letting viewers decide whether she’s egregiously performative or tragically misunderstood. But as frustrating as the film can be, it also raises questions about cultural appropriation and identity that will surely spark some fascinating conversations.