#blkgrlmgclwyr – blog

By Latrice Burks-Palmerio, Esq. AKA #blkgrlmgclwyr

I’ve been enlightened by the Nightbitch, this wild ride of a film that speaks to something deep in me as a woman. I’m still trying to find the words to articulate all the ways it grabbed me, and it’s a lot—so bear with me. But this movie? Why, it’s not just a story about a woman who thinks she’s turning into a dog, although, sure, there’s that too. It’s about the complexities of motherhood, the spiritual reckoning of identity, and the raw mess of it all. It’s got layers, layers that tap into something real about being a mother, and a woman who was, once upon a time, somebody else entirely.

Motherhood and Dream Abandonment

Let’s talk about that first: motherhood. Motherhood demands every ounce of you, and then some, leaving your dreams in the dust. The lead character, played by the remarkable Amy Adams, starts as an artist—a woman with a creative soul, alive with possibility. But after becoming a mother, she finds herself lost in the throes of her child’s demands. The film lays bare the deep conflict of motherhood: the way society (and patriarchy) expects us to surrender, fully and completely, to the role of caretaker. All your passions, your desires, your ambitions? They get shoved into the shadows, sometimes never to see the light of day again.

There’s a quiet tragedy in motherhood. A slow erosion of self. And in Nightbitch, that’s depicted beautifully and painfully. She’s not just losing herself in motherhood—she’s erasing herself. That moment when she wakes up and realizes she’s no longer the woman she used to be—that’s the core of this film. It’s a poignant, almost crushing commentary on how women, particularly mothers, often have to abandon the dreams of their youth in order to survive the demands of family life.

Magical Realism and Spirituality

But then, Nightbitch doesn’t just stay in that depressing place. No, it enters the realm of magical realism—yes, I said magical realism. This isn’t just a woman losing her sense of self in the mundane world. This is a woman transforming, unraveling, reconnecting with something primal inside her. It’s here where the nods to indigenous spirituality and women’s wisdom land hard. The film touches on the mysticism of womanhood, the power of the body, and the forgotten magic that resides in women’s ancestral knowledge.

There’s a particular moment when we see the lead character start to recognize that her transformation isn’t just happening in her body—it’s a spiritual awakening. This isn’t just a psychological breakdown or a simple escape from the rigors of motherhood; it’s a re-awakening of something ancient and untamed. It’s almost like she’s tapping into the wisdom of her foremothers, those women who knew the power of their bodies and their intuition. You could almost call it a re-connection to an ancestral self that was silenced by history.

Painful, Necessary Transformation

Which leads us to transformation—the brutal, sometimes necessary, but always painful nature of change. Whether it’s the shifting of her body, the shifting of her identity, or the shifting of her relationship to her child, the character is thrust into a painful metamorphosis that she doesn’t quite understand, but has no choice but to undergo.

Transformation in this context isn’t easy—it’s a bodily, emotional, and spiritual revolution. When the film shows us her ass-puss moment (yes, that’s what it is), it’s a stark reminder that transformation can be messy, gross even. The ass-puss scene—isn’t just shock value. It’s a symbol. It’s about how women, in their transition, often find their bodies betraying them, or at least transforming in ways they don’t recognize or even understand. It’s raw, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s absolutely necessary for the character to move forward. The film doesn’t shy away from the body horror inherent in change, and it’s not afraid to show us the terrifying, grotesque side of it.

Equitable Parenting

As for the husband? Let’s talk about him. Nightbitch isn’t some feminist liberal movie that beats up on men. The husband is not a villain here, but he’s also not much of a help either. Sound familiar, sis? The movie offers a critique of the way society often lets men off the hook when it comes to parenting. It’s like—if the guy is around, then he’s doing enough. But is he really? The audience questions: is he truly an equal partner in the work of raising their son, or does he get to keep his career and dreams while the woman is stuck with the invisible, uncredited labor? The imbalance in their partnership speaks volumes about how gender roles still exist, even in progressive homes.

There’s a small, yet significant moment in the film when the wife confronts her husband about the emotional labor that falls on her shoulders, and she’s not wrong. He seems to assume that his role is to support her, but supporting her isn’t the same as sharing the responsibility. It’s subtle but speaks to the larger cultural conversation we need to have about equitable parenting.

Existentialism: Searching for Self in the Chaos

This is also a deeply existential film. There are questions running throughout the movie: Who is she now? And who will she be? After becoming a mother, after losing herself, after experiencing this strange and unsettling transformation, where does she find meaning? Where is the woman she once was, and can she ever be her again? The movie asks these questions without offering neat answers, and in that, it feels incredibly honest.

The chaos of motherhood is real, but so is the chaos of selfhood. There’s no clear path to finding yourself again after becoming a mother. That postpartum “self” may be someone you don’t even recognize anymore. Existential dread —yeah, Nightbitch gets it.

Postpartum Depression & the Inability to Exercise Gifts

And then—postpartum depression. Let’s not forget it. Nightbitch speaks to the silent, crushing weight of that experience. It’s like a fog that settles over you, suffocating your creativity, your will to exist beyond the needs of your child. In the film, the protagonist’s need to create is stifled by her child’s needs, her self-doubt, and the overwhelming sense that her gifts—her talents—are useless now. This is a woman who is struggling to maintain a sense of self and purpose, and the depression that accompanies this struggle feels suffocating. It’s not just about the physical exhaustion—it’s the spiritual depletion. The movie makes that visceral. You feel it.

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Recommendation for All Moms Struggling to Balance Feminism and Motherhood

I recommend this film to every mother—especially those grappling with the expectations of motherhood while desperately trying to hold on to their feminist selves. You know, the ones who feel the pull between self-sacrifice and self-preservation. The ones who are questioning where their desires went when they became mom.

Nightbitch doesn’t give easy answers, but it gives voice to the questions we are too often too scared to ask. This film is for every mom who has ever felt invisible, for every mom who has ever wondered if she could ever be whole again. It’s for every mom who’s dealt with postpartum depression and felt like her creative spark would never return. And yes, it’s for the feminist mothers, too—the ones who are navigating the spaces between their own dreams and the reality of a world that demands their labor.

In the end, Nightbitch asks: What are you willing to become to reclaim yourself? And I’ll leave you with that, because I don’t have the answer either. But I think this movie—this wild, weird, wonderful movie—might be trying to tell us that the answer is everything.

Author’s Bio

Latrice Burks-Palmerio, also known by her powerful online presence as #blkgrlmgclwyr, is an expert in American politics with a deep focus on the intersection of American fascism and the decline of empire. Latrice’s academic journey began with an International Baccalaureate class on totalitarian regimes, which laid the foundation for her nuanced understanding of authoritarianism. She graduated with honors in Political Science from the College of Wooster, where her thesis examined the dynamics of Black social movements in the U.S. Further refining her expertise, Latrice earned her law degree from USC Gould School of Law, gaining invaluable insights into U.S. Constitutional law.

As an impact litigator specializing in employment law for marginalized communities and representing survivors of sex crimes, Latrice combines her legal acumen with a deep commitment to justice. She has also contributed to the public discourse through self-published articles that analyze and critique the evolving political landscape of America. Latrice’s work examines how the structures of American fascism and empire-building manifest in law, policy, and social movements, making her a critical voice in understanding the political currents shaping the nation today.

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