I have waited three long weeks to
write this — that’s how long I needed to sort through my emotions (jk, not
really). This is going to be entirely about why I cried from about five minutes of the movie
to 20 minutes after the movie. There are lots and lots of great
think-pieces and twitter streams out there about Wakanda’s feminism, isolationism, Freedom in the World score, etc. That’s not this piece. I’m going to do that thing I’ve
occasionally said I hate when women writers do — I am going to cannibalise on
my own feelings — though I will have links to some Black Panther-related pieces
I have enjoyed at the end.
Some context:
1. I cry a lot. One of
my friends while pregnant described herself as “more emotional than Wendy and
Pi (another friend) combined.”
2. There will be
spoilers — I can’t do this properly without them. I tried.
Now hang tight as I unpack ten years of baggage!
1. “We’re
home.”
Everybody’s favourite
General, Okoye, announces this to a googly-eyed T’Challa and a comforting Nakia
as Wakanda comes into view from the aircraft-spacecraft thing-a-ma-bob Royal
Talon Fighter. The sun is rising over the horizon, and we are introduced to
some Wakandan citizens. For a quick moment a shepherd boy waves at the RTF
flying over his sheep and the dusty grassland. Boy did the tears fall hard during this scene! I was crying because when Okoye said
“we’re home” she wasn’t only talking to T’Challa and Nakia, she was talking to
me. My grandparents’ town is a dusty red thing not too dissimilar from what we
saw. In that moment, I felt as if someone I knew was receiving me. It wasn’t
simply the familiarity of the scene; there was a certain loving quality to that
shot, an intimacy, an understanding. In any other movie about Africa, the
audience would perceive that scene with contempt — pity the poor Africa country
that cannot feed her own people — and this is the outside world’s view of
Wakanda at various points in the movie. But for us insiders, those of us going
home, we know there’s more. This was the first of many parts of the movie that
I felt seen in a way I never thought I could in a movie theatre in the US.
Besides that, I was
crying for 18–23 year-old Wendy, who struggled to convey this complexity to her
classmates who only knew Africa for its ails. I, like many other African
international students, have done a pretty good job of adding to the view count
on that Chimamanda single story TED talk. It was the most I felt I could do to
make my friends see my home was more than what they thought it was. I cried
because I wished I had that scene back in college.
I cried because I still
remember a time really early on in college while answering yet another slew of
ignorant questions about Africa, I flippantly told someone “It’s beautiful. You
should come,” and was quickly received with a “Me? Go to Africa?” and a look
whose best approximation is the response to “Here, lick this shoe.”
Black Panther certainly
isn’t the first time I get to see this. That scene is every Safaricom ad (here, here, and this project) and it is that iconic Kenya Airways ad. I have seen work
portraying Africa in a positive light — but a lot of this was us having
conversations with ourselves . I felt overwhelmed not only that other people would listen in on the conversation but that they would almost see it the way I do. As Danai says in this interview, this depiction of where
I’m from “is like a salve to those
wounds.”
2. Africa is
cool!
Somewhat related but
also not is the experience of seeing your home or aspects of your home be
considered “cool.” Again, back to college, where I was the kid with the weird
accent, weird mannerisms and weird taste in food — coupled with the baggage of
being from a dirty, poor place.
I
said “multiplication” funnily and some kid sitting right across from him laughed and felt no shame.
My shoe obsession and
collection (RIP) was a thing of fascination because, “Heels? But you are from
Africa...” Those two things are mutually exclusive.
[Here’s a fifteen-minute documentary about “The Division” at my college. I’m in it. I
look a hot mess, and there’s a lot I would want to say or respond to
differently, but if you’d like more context about college.]
I certainly worked to
fix my Africanness. I changed the way I speak to make it easier for others to
understand me. I modulate the way I act. Interestingly now —being in a more
international space (a huge chunk of my current classmates have spent a
significant portion of their lives outside the US) and also having been in Laos,
where I learned I was closer to the culture as a Kenyan than a pretend
American — I find that I have reverted to be in some ways even more African
than I ever was (I hold my right elbow with my left hand when shaking hands
with people these days — what??!). BP was a temporary moment of seeing
what I’ve long fought to say is cool be accepted as a cool thing. I wish I had
this movie back in the day, if only to have at least one globally recognized
comeback .
3. Africans vs.
African Americans
The scene between
N’Jobu and T’Chaka was obvie the first moment I started crying. Some
background: I barely remember talking about the human cost of the Triangular/Transatlantic Slave Trade in high school history lessons. There was a quick mention that the
Africans who were sold were enticed with beads, mirrors and other gifts; some
were kidnapped; some were prisoners of war sold by rival kings. As far as I remember
(and Mrs. Sum’s students, correct me if I’m wrong) that was never tied to US
history and the black struggle on this side of the world. I don’t remember
learning about slavery or segregation in the US — the Triangular Trade somehow
stopped a little ways into the Atlantic just off the waters of Senegal and
Ghana (again, people, correct me if I’m wrong). Maybe I was a dense kid and
needed it spelled out. It wasn’t until later, probably while learning about slavery in Latin America, that I made the
connections. “Wait, those black people we said were
sold, those are the people who ended up there?"
At the same time, the US was the first
time I realized that just because someone looks like you doesn’t mean they
would understand where you are coming from. And this goes both ways between
Africans and African Americans. It’s sad to realize how our view of each other
is so dictated by racism. “Black Americans are lazy.” “They don’t want to
work.” “Africans are dirty.” “Africans smell funny.” Eveeezy, a Kenyan-American YouTuber, made a video in 2015 about Wakanda (as in Africa) suddenly being cool, in which she talks about the playground taunts she endured as
a kid of African immigrants in America. While my experience would be much
closer to her parents, it was still relatable and expanded a lot on what I
experienced.
Watching Killmonger and
T’Challa be the embodiments of this debate was emotionally overwhelming. I
needed them to hash it out and reconcile. I cried because it was a little
uncomfortable — did we Africans really turn our backs on our people?
I know I wasn't the only one thinking this because I had a conversation
with an African American friend after, and as we discussed Wakanda’s
isolationism she asked: “I was thinking like, is that how it is in Africa? They
don’t really think of the others that were taken away and now live this worse
life because of it?” I guess, it’s more a Wakandan thing because they also neglected
other African countries,
but...?
4. Seeing
yourself
First, I have spent a
lifetime consuming media about people whose lives are so entirely different
from mine, I don’t need characters to look like me to empathize with them. I’ve
heard that there are people who don’t go to watch movies with people of other
races because they can’t identify —such a sweet existence that has to be.
Still, there is a lot to be said about being able to see yourself in someone
else without pulling mind tricks. Lupita has certainly been that for me. We
really don’t have much in common besides growing up in Nairobi and stanning for
the same band (why did I never get a picture?!). Here is this Kenyan girl
(fine, and Mexican, too). The same Lupita I saw on a Kenyan show. Lupita at the
Oscars. Lupita with Janelle Monae. Lupita with Angela Bassett and Forrest
Whittaker! All these people who otherwise live in my TV. Here she is in this space that
was inaccessible to me, that I thought was inaccessible to African girls like
me. Nothing's changed about its accessibility for me, personally, but still it’s mindbogglingly weirdly pleasant. It’s such a sweet feeling. I cried because I was so happy! I even re-watched her Oscar acceptance speech because I could finally let go of her first Hollywood role being a slave.
Would you believe me if I said this was the shortened version?! The thing that has struck me the most about this movie is how layered it is and I keep discovering new brilliant things about it (the score has been a trip!). I also have the worst case of pop culture withdrawals and that lingering feeling of wanting to live in Wakanda has not yet passed (three weeks later!). Please send me links to videos and articles so I can keep this fantasy alive. I think for starters I'm going to watch Fruitvale and Creed because (and I know I am late to this party) producer Ryan Coogler is a genius!
Further
watching/Further Reading
Letitia Wright, Lupita
Nyong’o and Michael “Bae” Jordan at BBC 1Xtra — Lupita for president!
Lupita Nyong’o and
Danai Gurira on BlackTree helped me get
over their accents
Africa’s a Country has been doing a lot of stuff:
Buzzfeed’s See
Something Say Something Podcast | JoJoba
Oil in the Wind
