Straw: Why We Must Care a Little More

I saw the movie Straw last month. And I was so angry at the critics that I started to fear for myself: How could a message so clear, loud, and urgent be so completely missed?

Straw is a very simple movie. It wasn’t like a Christopher Nolan film with layers of twists and hidden meanings. It was a straightforward Tyler Perry movie that depicted the unfolding of a horrible day in a woman’s life.

And even if it is mostly fiction, it’s important to remember that nothing in this movie is impossible, or hasn’t in some way happened to a very real person somewhere.

Straw Movie Summary: A Day In The Life Of a Struggling Single Mom

Spoiler alert! Skip this section if you haven’t seen the movie.

Straw begins in the morning as we see the protagonist lying in bed next to her daughter—who wears earmuffs because the neighbors are blasting loud music. The protagonist is essentially sleep-deprived as she hurries to bathe and dress her daughter for school.

But she doesn’t make it out of the compound before her landlady reminds her that her rent is overdue, threatening to throw her belongings outside if she doesn’t return with the money by 10 AM. She reassures the landlady that she’ll get paid that day. She drives her daughter to school in a rickety car, then heads straight to work.

At work, she’s greeted by rude customers—who are yelling what they want, with little regard that it was a fellow human serving. While serving them, her daughter’s school calls. She begs permission from her boss, but he only gives her 30 minutes. At the school, she watches her daughter being taken away by the government—they say it was for the best because the little girl comes to school hungry, often dirty, and sleep-deprived.

Heartbroken, she starts to head back to work, hoping to at least get her salary to secure the house, and maybe fight to get her daughter back. But it starts to rain, and she gets caught in traffic. Trying to beat the 30-minute deadline, she attempts to drive in the wrong lane, but is stopped by police and her car gets impounded. She walks back to work in the rain.

But she’s now two hours late. Her boss, furious, decides to fire her, despite her pleading and explanations. “You brought this on yourself,” he says, looking at her with disgust. And when she asks for at least her salary, he informs her it will be mailed to her in three days, according to company policy.

Defeated, she heads home only to find her belongings outside in the rain, soaked. She screams and cries, but who cares?

Desperate, she returns to her workplace, explaining to her boss that she needs the money NOW. But he tells her to get out of his face. Coincidentally, two robbers break in, and in the chaos—trying to get her salary before the robbers take everything—she starts struggling with them, and shots get fired. She had accidentally shot one of the robbers in the process and was now wielding the loaded gun.

Then it gets worse.

Her boss, seeing the situation, jumps to the conclusion that she had set up the robbery and immediately calls the police. Now she wasn’t only going to lose her daughter, job, and salary, but was also going to jail for something she knew nothing about. Panicking, she pointed the gun at him and pulled the trigger at point-blank range, cutting him down.

Then she grabbed her check, ignoring the pile of cash scattered everywhere, and headed to the bank to cash her salary.

It was at the bank that police surrounded her, and most of the movie’s dialogue happened (till dark).

It was also in the bank, holding customers hostage, that she got to explain herself to the negotiator—which was more or less a creative way for the writer to slow down and help viewers understand what had been going on all this while.

Tyler Perry’s Straw Main Message Was Simple, But Critics Missed the Point Entirely

I think the writer was a genius because not only were they able to share their opinion, they were also able to capture the viewpoints of the audience through the many characters in the movie with shocking accuracy.

Seeing the movie, the reaction of most people was to break down in tears—just like the masses that came with placards, demonstrating for her release in the movie. But there was a sect of people, less empathetic and more judgmental. Those who saw her as a criminal.

Within hours of the movie’s release, social media was flooded with posts commenting on how she could claim to be poor but have a car. This criticism was annoying because the writers made sure to highlight that she needed that car to rush her daughter to the hospital in case of a crisis, and of course, to get to work. That’s despite the fact that in many places abroad, cars are leased, not owned. So you can’t just sell them—which in her case would be like burning your ladder to stay warm in a pit that’s caving in.

However, what scared me was that, despite the writer and producer’s almost two-hour effort to explain that even someone who commits a crime can still be the greater victim, most people failed to see it. And even those who saw it completely missed the bigger message. And that is why I am writing this piece—to maybe stress it a bit more.

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From being a single mother struggling to make ends meet, to being caught up in rules and policies that don’t seem to care if it is not practical for everyone—that don’t seem to care if trying to follow them will cost you your means of livelihood, your shelter, or even your child—it was troubling, to say the least.

“She killed her boss. She was being so selfish and evil.” I agree. But I also understand her. When pushed to the absolute edge—when there is no promise of food, shelter, or even your family—not many people can maintain impeccable moral standards. In fact, part of the brain—the prefrontal cortex—responsible for such reasoning almost goes offline completely under extreme stress. And stressed she was.

The craziest thing is how few people actually took time to see the main culprit: a system that is absolutely unfeeling.

A system ruled by money with little to no humanity in it.

A system whose rewards and punishments are often divorced from empathy or compassion.

A system where those in power can actively choose to hurt those under them if they don’t get their way.

Of course, it often starts logically and sensibly—the landlady needing her money, the boss needing his workers to be punctual, or the police wanting everyone to stay in line. But then it gradually moves to employers totally ignoring the health and well-being of their employees, and the police actively finding legal ways to mess you up.

Humanity begins to erode when we stop caring. When we see people as numbers, or as means to an end. When we prioritize things—be it money, food,or accommodation—over humans.

And there is no humanity in actively trying to hurt people. There is no humanity when you call the customer care representative a “stupid bitch.”

Why Nigeria Feels So Messed Up: Lessons from Straw Movie

In Nigeria, we’ve mastered the art of survival, so much so that empathy is now viewed as strange or a luxury we can’t afford.

We’ve normalised indifference so deeply that when we see it reflected back at us in a movie, we don’t even see it. It’s like a fish which was born and raised in the gutter, so that it can’t tell if there is anything like clean water—we hardly can imagine a world that truly cares.

And I am not being dramatic. Many Nigerians are completely oblivious to the existence of such things as government welfare for the unemployed or sick, palliatives for those affected by natural disasters, or even justice for those who have been treated wrongly but don’t have money. All we know is to kill or be killed.

“You no get money, you dey call police. Me I dey laugh you gan ni”, Burna Boy sang.

So, what do we do? We focus on criticising the victim rather than examining the system.

The lady who was raped by her Pastor or Boss is to blame. Why did she dress that way?

The man who has been jailed for God knows how long is to blame. Why did he criticise the powers that be?

The wife who complains about the cheating husband is the one who gets blamed. Why didn’t she do or endure more to keep him?

Heck, the system is so messed up that we have even learned to survive in it with a smile: When the police extort you, you thank them. When your boss makes inappropriate comments or harasses you, you apologise for taking offence. When the pastor rapes you, you pray to God to forgive you for luring his anointed to sin. We literally have people convincing themselves that the wrong thing is okay, because acknowledging the truth feels too dangerous.

The cancer runs from the head to the bottom: The leaders don’t care enough not to steal public funds. Judges don’t care enough to enforce justice. Employers don’t care enough to pay people their wages on time. Landlords don’t care enough not to exploit tenants. Teachers don’t care enough to educate children properly. Fathers don’t care enough to take responsibility. And children don’t care enough to be nice to the new kid.

Each act of indifference builds upon the last. And soon, indifference becomes native, while caring feels naive.

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Straw forced me to reexamine my approach to people’s struggles.

I literally picked up my phone and reached out to someone I knew was struggling. Not to fix their problem—because I didn’t have the power—but simply to show that I cared.

Societal change happens when we recognise that our (individual) indifference contributes to collective suffering. 

Conclusion: Each and Every Straw Contributes To Breaking The Camel’s Back

The woman in Straw didn’t start her day planning to hurt anyone. She started it trying to take care of her daughter, pay her rent, and do her job. But every system she encountered—from her workplace to law enforcement to social services—failed her not necessarily through malice, but through indifference.

Straw wasn’t asking us to condone violence or excuse bad decisions. It was asking us to understand how people reach their breaking point, to see the systems that push them there, and to care enough to intervene before it’s too late.

Straw tried to help us see that we are the society we complain about. It helped us see the dirty gutter water we were swimming in.

The question isn’t whether we can fix everyone’s problems—we can’t. The question is are we willing to see people’s humanity – to listen to their stories, to show up in small ways that remind them they matter?

In a world that seems determined to reduce people to numbers, caring becomes a radical act. In an indifferent system, empathy becomes revolutionary.

Because it’s not really the last straw that breaks the camel’s back. It’s the absence of people willing to remove a few straws before it’s too late.

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Here are some other content you might like:

1. The Selfishness Paradox: Why You Must Think of More Than Yourself To Get What You Want In Life
2. Empathy Vs Compassion: The Dangers of Empathy And Why You Must Develop Compassion To Truly Help People
3. Always Sorting It Out Alone Is Causing You Unnecessary Suffering: 5 Steps to Getting Help From Others Without Losing Respect
4. When the Struggles Come: What To Do When Life Doesn’t Go as Planned In Your 20s
5. How Do You Give Something Without Expecting Anything Back (Yet Get More Than You Gave)?