Don't worry, there are absolutely zero "Black Panther" spoilers here.
I wasn’t a big comic book guy growing up, so T’Challa wasn't really on my radar until I heard Marvel was making a "Black Panther" film and Ryan Coogler would direct. Coogler has already made a name for himself directing Michael B. Jordan in "Fruitvale Station," the acclaimed 2013 drama about the murder of Oscar Grant, and in "Creed," heir to the Rocky Balboa dynasty. Coogler and his frequent collaborator Michael B. are like Air Jordan and Pippen to me — the ultimate duo — and I’d proudly watch anything they put out. So even before I knew much about the Marvel story, when I heard Coogler would be directing and Jordan was set to play Erik Killmonger, mercenary antagonist to T'Challa, a.k.a. Black Panther and the king of fictional African nation Wakanda (Chadwick Boseman), I was committed.
And then social media took the "Panther" craze to another level — people of every color and ethnicity posting selfies in multicolored dashikis, warrior helmets, neck beads, spears and gold-plated everything, with captions like, “This is what I’m wearing to the 'Panther' premiere!” That excitement, credited to a high-profile superhero film made by a mostly black cast and crew, running a $200 million budget in white Hollywood, made me Wakanda-ready. (Not Wakanda-ready enough to dress like an extra, but excited about the film.)
I never thought I’d see so many Americans excited about celebrating a story about Africa and Africans.
America has a history of denigrating Africa — a history that stretches far past slavery in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Historians like Ibram X. Kendi credit some of these anti-Africa ideas to Leo Africanus. Africanus claimed to have explored different parts of the continent and wrote about the slavery of people he encountered in his hit book "Description of Africa." His teachings informed racist leaders and teachers such as Richard Baxter, Cotton Mather and Thomas Jefferson, who helped define Africa and Africans to Americans who didn’t know any better.
To put it into context, here’s an excerpt from Baxter’s book, “Christian Directory.”
Understand well how far your power over your slaves extendeth, and what limits God hath set thereto; such as is a sufficient difference between men and brutes, that they are of as good a kind as you, that is, they are reasonable creatures as well as you, and born to as much natural liberty; that they have immortal souls, and are equally capable of salvation with your∣selves; Remember that God is their absolute owner, and that you have none but a derived and limited property in them; that they and you are equally under the government and laws of God;—Remember that God is their tender Father, and if they be as good, doth love them as well as you, and that the greater your power is over them, the greater your charge is of them, and your duty for them; the fourth Commandment requireth masters to see that all within their gates observe the Sabbath day, so must you exercise both your power and love to bring them to the knowledge and faith of Christ, and to the just obedience of God's commands.
These racists didn’t work together, but as the thought leaders of their times, their ideas worked in concert, influencing each other from one generation to the next and much of the country as a result. So when Thomas Jefferson said, “Blacks smell bad and were physically unattractive, required less sleep, were dumb, cowardly and incapable of feeling grief, advance it therefore as a suspicion only, that blacks, whether originally a distinct race, or made distinct by time and circumstances, are inferior to the whites, in the endowments of body and mind,” people listened.
Those same ideas and stereotypes were passed down like an ignorant inheritance, so ingrained in our national consciousness that by the time I hit my preteens in the '90s, the worst thing you could call an African-American was an African. I’m from the blackest neighborhood in a predominately black city, and being called an African was an insult — fighting words that could get your top knocked off. I was poisoned by these racist anti-African ideas as well; however, I was lucky enough to un-learn them before the first time I went to Africa in 2008.
You’d think that this type of thinking would be completely gone by 2018, right? Wrong.
I sat in a classroom last week with a group of middle school students. We all argued about being from east and west Baltimore, and which side was better, until I tried to end it by saying, “Well, we are all from Africa!” They cringed, and some spit curse words out. It was just like being back in the '90s, or in any other period of American history when people demonized the most beautiful place in the world because of false stereotypes. I tried to teach the students about the beauty and diversity of African countries, showed them pictures of my travels and explained how important it is for us to be connected to our roots. This wasn’t the first time I had to have this talk, and I’m sure it won’t be the last; however, I think "Black Panther" is going to play a major role in finally destructing the old racist narratives.
"Black Panther" captures the beauty of Africa, including the people, the culture, the art and the landscape. The women are brilliant, powerful and portrayed in such a way that is inspiring, honest and true. The story is unique, complex, and it cleverly tackles the divide between Africans and African-Americans — mainly because we get a chance to see ourselves in them as they get a chance to see themselves in us. The end result is we. I've never seen a movie handle a topic so sensitive in such a simple and fun way, on top of all of the knowledge about struggle and triumph the film has to offer. I don’t think it’s too early for me to say that this may be the film of the year.
Join me on Salon Talks" on Tuesday, February 20 at 12 p.m. ET / 9 a.m. PT for a live conversation around the cultural significance of "Black Panther." Tune in on Salon's Facebook and Periscope.
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