May 28, 2023
by Khadi A. Oluwatoyin
By now, you should have finished watching the final season of Snowfall. If not, you may want to save this read for another day.
For those of you who are not familiar with the show or have no intention of watching it, Snowfall is a crime drama television series set in Los Angeles during the 1980s, which follows the rise of the crack cocaine epidemic (which we all know was intentionally created by the Central Intelligence Agency, allegedly) and the impact it had on the city. The series premiered in 2017 and has six seasons in total.
I want to discuss the last episode of season six, where we shockingly see Franklin Saint, the show’s main protagonist, alcohol addicted, but to do so, I have to give you a quick rundown of what happened in the previous seasons as it relates to Franklin’s character.
In season one, we meet Franklin Saint, a young, fine street entrepreneur who gets involved in the drug trade to make money. In the second season, Franklin struggles to balance his newfound success with the moral consequences of his actions. In the third season, Franklin and his associates expand their drug operations, drawing the attention of law enforcement and rival gangs. In season four, Franklin’s drug empire begins to crumble as a consequence of his greed and, in my opinion, straight-up arrogance. In the fifth season, Franklin and his associates struggle to keep their drug empire afloat amid increased scrutiny and violence from rival gangs. Franklin also experiences a debilitating injury that threatens to derail his expansion plans.
In the show’s last season (whew, we made it yall!), Franklin leaves the game on his own accord until he realizes that nearly seven million dollars of his money were stolen. Throughout the season, Franklin goes to extreme measures to get his money back, and as the likelihood of Franklin reclaiming his money decreases, his drinking increases.
In the final episode, we see that Franklin is living in the home he bought for his mother at the height of his success, and it is apparent that Franklin has become dependent on alcohol and can no longer pay his bills and keep the home.
This portrayal of Franklin, ungroomed and unkept with bloodshot eyes, was extremely difficult to watch. Despite him being a drug dealer, it was hard not to love him. Franklin was handsome, smart, and hardworking. He had so much drive and dedication, and I, like most viewers, was rooting for him (despite him destroying hundreds of Black families via his profession). We wanted him to win so badly because we know exactly how it feels to want to succeed despite being a part of the demographic America tries so hard to ensure fails.
Franklin’s transformation from a handsome, strategic entrepreneur to a houseless alcoholic reminded me of my journey into addiction, and though we will never get the opportunity to see Franklin recover and reclaim himself, we know that it is possible.
Like Franklin, I was also very hardworking (and competitive). Since elementary school, I worked hard to do my best and gain the respect and admiration of those around me – especially the adults.
I generally always excelled academically. During elementary, I persuaded my friends to let me join their rock band even though I had the vocals of a scared, squirmy New York City mouse. I learned how to read Arabic by the time I was in the 4th grade, and though I never finished reading the entire Quran, I had a pretty good grasp of the language.
I consistently won the yearly science fair for my grade at the Saturday program I attended during all four years of high school. I volunteered a lot and was a part of many student clubs and organizations. In ninth or tenth grade, I decided I wanted to dance and do gymnastics. I got a job at the local mall and joined a professional dance school on the other side of the borough I lived in.
I didn’t have professional dance or gymnastics experience until then, so I had to start with the beginners, who were 3rd and 4th graders. Just imagine a 10th grader dancing in recitals with elementary school students who most had been dancing since pre-school. I stuck out like a sore thumb.
After I graduated college, I decided to attend law school. I had no real clue about what the admission process or the experience would involve, but it was what I wanted at the time, so it is what I went after. I studied my tail off for the LSAT – the MOST challenging test I ever had to commit to. I studied for a year straight and got accepted into three law schools the following year. After law school, I took the New York Bar Exam and passed on my first attempt.
I share this all to say, similar to Franklin (and most of you reading), I am no stranger to hard work. I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. However, just like Franklin, I was wounded and lacked a belief system created on values like love and tools like community.
At times, I valued material things and possessions over people. I often felt like it was my way or the highway and was indifferent to the ideas of forgiveness or second chances. Life felt very black and white, right or wrong, and nine times out of ten, I believed that I was in the right.
I didn’t understand that failure and disappointments were natural, expected aspects of life and that perfection was a myth. I didn’t see the importance of introspection, and though it felt like I was best friends with the guidance counselors of every school I attended, I didn’t realize how much-untreated trauma hibernated unconsciously inside of me.
I was book-smart but lacked mental flexibility and emotional intelligence. I have said it time and time again – I wouldn’t wish addiction on anyone, but my addiction saved my life. It gifted me a moment (or a couple of years) to reflect on how I lost it all and, most importantly, myself.
Some people find themselves, post addiction, in recovery and no longer caring about the material world. Let me tell you now – that’s not me. But before my recovery, I thought I valued and enjoyed nice things when I didn’t. I just hoarded them, collecting them like Franklin did drug territories. From designer handbags to boyfriends to degrees, I just wanted more – unconsciously attempting to fill a void that couldn’t be bridged by monetary or tangible gains.
Before I could truly enjoy the material gifts of the world, I had to get honest about the things that were done to me and the things I had done to others. I had to get clear about the person I wanted to be and the values I wanted to exemplify. I had to admit my mistakes and put my values into action. When I started to do this work, my void became filled with self-love and worth created by the things I said and did to myself and others that aligned with my values and beliefs. My material possessions were just the icing on the cake – not the cake itself.
Many of the values and beliefs I find hope and solace in today come from the teachings of Black women like bell hooks, Audre Lorde, and Toni Cade Bambara – authors that I never learned about in my nearly three decades of schooling and whose books capitalists and racists would love to ban from educational institutions today. Go figure!
Through their teachings, I learned how my trauma and harmful experiences mimicked past slave survival behavior despite 400 years passing and that ignoring sexism, racism, and white supremacy will always lead to destruction ( in my case, the bottle).
Anyways, back to Franklin Saint. At the beginning of season one, we learned that growing up, Franklin lived with his mother and that his father was a part of or worked with the Black Panthers. His parents eventually separated, and his father became substance dependent and houseless, roaming the streets of South Central Los Angeles.
It is clear that in his past, Franklin experienced trauma like racism, poverty, and being the child of a substance-dependent parent. His experiences probably fueled his drive to work hard and make it by any means. Franklin is clearly street smart and business savvy but operating from such a place stunts mental flexibility and emotional growth. Franklin was wounded, and though he did everything in his power (besides talk about his pain and heal) to become a self-sufficient, successful man, he found himself houseless and substance dependent.
Unfortunately, season six is probably the last time we will see or hear about Franklin Saint. It saddens me that the last image we have of him involves him losing his home and being drunk and lost in his thoughts. However, if there were to be a season seven we know that with rehab (or some form of treatment) and an updated belief system with more effective coping skills, his recovery (and who knows, maybe even a new career) is possible.
We are all capable and deserving of a bounce back.
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