By Brittani McNeill

The Revolution will not be televised

Didn’t Gil Scott Heron warn us? Still we go looking for power, inspiration, even validation on screen—the small and big. Because “representation matters!” And it does. But are we expecting too much from media representation? Or are we expecting—and accepting—too little?

I loved Black Panther. It was a cinematic triumph. It thrilled me aesthetically—the stunning set design, flawless Black bodies complemented by amazing African inspired costumes, and dope soundtrack all made me feel.

So. Many. Feelings.

As we’ve seen, Black people throughout the world are being inspired by the film. There is no shortage of writing about Black Panther, even now, weeks after the film premiered. Initially, most reactions were contemplative, but celebratory. At some point, however, we must confront the problematic elements.

Some might argue, “This is a triumphant moment for Black people! Don’t ruin it!” But this movie is an instant classic. Black Panther is slated to top one billion dollars at the box office. This is a moment in pop culture, and a moment in Black culture. So we need to talk about it, and we can!

We know how to be nuanced. How to celebrate and side eye at the same time. And as people write think pieces and engage in lively and necessary conversations about the way this story represents our real life struggles, it’s necessary—and worth it—to acknowledge where it goes wrong. And more importantly, how it could have gone right.

Black Panther is set in the fictional uncolonized African country of Wakanda, which is isolated from the rest of the continent—by choice. They choose to allow the world to believe that they are a stereotypical, third world African country. They hide the fact that they have access to Vibranium—the most powerful and valuable natural resource on earth—and as a result they have created technology far more advanced than the world has seen.

Wakandan isolation is certainly an understandable move considering it was done for self-preservation. They are well aware of the effects of colonization and colonialism, and have the power to assure their resources and land are not discovered or exploited. But in doing so, they leave Black people in the rest of the world to suffer.

In the Boston Review, Christopher Lebron argues that, in making the central conflict between Wakanda and the villain Killmonger who considers himself a Pan-Africanist revolutionary, director Ryan Coogler makes us choose between “two radical imaginings … an immensely rich and flourishing advanced African nation that is sealed off from white colonialism and supremacy; and a few black Wakandans with a vision of global black solidarity who are determined to use Wakanda’s privilege to emancipate all black people.” But what would be an alternative, more liberating choice? In Black Panther, rooted in both fantasy and reality, is possibility. To me, that’s what makes the movie amazing and simultaneously disappointing. It falls short in exploring story lines that show the characters having a real chance at power and working towards restoration for Black people across the globe.

How might Wakanda share it’s power without being exposed and exploited? They have the strongest warriors with the best technological advancements in the world, but they are outnumbered. And what happens when the rest of the world—inevitably—gets access to vibranium? What happened when the rest of the world found diamonds, oil, gold, and animals with ivory?

How could the complicated choices facing Wakanda, and their effects, reflect the complexity of our path toward liberation in the very real colonized world we live in today? Because Wakanda’s fictional fears are based on real world concerns. In Africa, exposure and exploration equal exploitation.

Though the movie’s end seems to offer a resounding “no,” is there actually a way for Wakanda to share their secrets without being exploited by colonizers?. T’Challa ultimately chooses not only to reveal Wakanda’s technology to the world, but to work with other nations—colonizers included—to use that technology to benefit the marginalized. I won’t even pretend to see that as being realistic.

I can’t imagine a reality in which outsiders—particularly white ones—partner with African countries to use the wealth from Africa’s natural resources to help marginalized Black people across the globe. Maybe that was an acceptable fantasy resolution. (Or maybe it’s the only resolution Coogler thought Marvel would accept.) But in our real life examination of Africa and the diaspora, it’s not realistic.

We know this is Marvel. It’s Disney. So even with the highest hopes and anticipation, any portrayal of Black liberation was only going so far. But still we must ask: can these imaginings of this thriving African nation and of power dispersed throughout the diaspora be made to reconcile?

What would happen if Wakanda accepted the responsibility to figure out how to reach out to the diaspora without a partnership with colonizers—or at least with a less vulnerable one? What is the alternative?

Nationalism and isolationism cannot be presented as acceptable

I support the connection that other Black people, particularly those separated from the continent, have with their homelands. Be it Haiti, Jamaica, or the Bahamas—a number of African people were taken to places where they were able to reclaim an identity and a sense of home in predominantly Black spaces.

But this must be distinguished from the very conservative—and frankly selfish—idea of nationalism, that was the basis of the national identity of Wakanda. When you think about how much their behavior mimics the colonizers they clearly [and justifiably] feel morally superior to, it is jarring. Think about T’Challa balking at the idea of helping marginalized people around the world—his assertion that Wakanda doesn’t get involved in others’ affairs. How would that sound coming from the likes of the maniacal mercenary that currently occupies the White House? Disgusting—but normal.

It is true that in the real world not all Africans share a sense of global or even continental Blackness. Africa is made up of many countries, cultures, and tribes. Groups that have often come into conflict with each other. And the idea that all Black people—all Africans and their descendants across the diaspora—are one people is relatively new.

But in the movie, we learn that Wakandans do indeed identify a connection with the Black people across the diaspora, those in other parts of Africa and those who have been separated from their homeland. Even with acknowledgement and acceptance of global Blackness, they consciously chose not to intervene. They even sent out spies to make sure they knew what was happening.

But they had no intention of getting involved, and they retain the moral high ground.

Ultimately, we do see that both the protagonist and antagonist learn and know, respectively, that this isn’t okay. The conflict arises when we examine their tactics.

T’Challa must have a full awakening

When we first see T’Challa, he is innocent, or at least genuinely naive. He has no idea that his uncle N’Jobu, who worked in the United States as a spy for Wakanda, was killed by his own brother, T’Chaka (T’Challa’s father), when his ideas to use Wakanda’s technology to liberate Black people across the world conflicted with Wakanda’s isolationist policies. When T’Challa learns that his father not only killed N’Jobu, but left T’Challa’s now fatherless cousin, N’Jakada, behind to languish in Oakland, we see almost immediately that he begins to grapple with his father’s actions and his country’s policies.

Due to continuous prodding from Nakia—who is already working towards liberation of Black people in other parts of Africa—and the revelation of what his father has done to his uncle and cousin, we see T’Challa’s growth. During his ancestral plane experience, we see his anger towards his father for leaving N’Jakada—now known as Eric Killmonger—in Oakland after N’Jobu is killed, and we see him begin to question Wakanda’s obligation to Africans across the world.

By the time the movie ends, T’Challa has mortally wounded Killmonger, but has enough understanding of his anger and his motives that he offers to use Wakandan technology to save his life. Killmonger, knowing his fate will be to live as a prisoner, declines, and accepts his death, and we see T’Challa basically adopt Killmonger’s mission, but not his motives or methods.

In addition to his partnership with other countries through the UN, he decides to go to Killmonger’s neighborhood in Oakland and buy property to build an outreach center. But in order for the work T’Challa wants to do to be truly revolutionary, he has to be more than the Black “white savior” of a poor Black area.

Going into the hood and teaching a few kids to code just won’t do!

He’s not buying the whole block to give them the tools for autonomy and self-empowerment [not to mention fighting unequal access to housing, the effects of redlining and a lack of a living wage, food deserts, etc.]. He plans to displace them, then create opportunities as he sees fit. He’s already decided he knows what they need, when he could have just asked his cousin—if he hadn’t killed him.

Doesn’t this sound familiar?

The colonizers can’t be heroes

Have you ever been in a deep conversation about slavery or the evil of Jim Crow and had someone jump in and say, “but there were some good white people TOO!” I hate those people. At times, this whole movie feels like those people.

Even if we accept that the Wakandans simply couldn’t bear watching a human being die knowing they had the technology to save him, was it necessary for the CIA agent—who is obligated to go back and share all of their intelligence—to be a hero? This reinforces the idea of inherent goodness in whiteness. It overlooks who he is and what he actually represents.

The CIA has historically been one of Black people’s greatest oppressors, globally. That this institution would be presented as producing an agent who is genuinely concerned with the fate of Wakanda—or any Black people—is a stretch, even for fiction. And it helps cement a good vs. evil narrative that has long served to demonize and undermine Black leaders and interests.

This is where I really begin to question Coogler. I think we all accept that there is only a certain level of freedom in working as a writer and director for large Hollywood studios. And even less when working within the confines of an established storyline, as with comic books.

But, the glaring white savior in Black Panther contradicts everything the movie claims to be going for.

And it just seems so obvious. Was Agent Ross’ storyline included in anticipation of the need to placate white viewers? Or was it just a necessary continuation of the storyline from the comic books? Either way, in order for Black liberation to truly be at the forefront of this series, Ross’ position and intel has to be limited (or non-existent).

Killmonger can’t be just a villain

Or maybe he can’t be a villain at all???

First, I must say, I do think Coogler and co-writer Joe Robert Cole deserve credit for the depiction of Killmonger as a nuanced character. While I lament the fact that positive depictions of Black Americans (or any Black people outside of Wakanda) were wholly left out of the film, Killmonger is a compelling villain.

Maybe making Killmonger the hero, immediately anyway, is the easy route. Maybe what they went with is more realistic. The character is nuanced enough that most of us already understand him (even if we don’t agree with his methods). The audience can see and understand his mission, even before T’Challa does. But is that enough?

In the end, I didn’t want Killmonger to win. I convinced myself that not wanting him to succeed in ousting T’Challa was ok—in part, I’m sure, because we’re conditioned to root for the protagonist. But in part because Killmonger had clearly gone too far. It was impossible to root for this character, because in spite of the fact that his background in the comics tells us that he’s brilliant, his simplistic methods in the movie—centering power and revenge—caused him to be destructive in a way that wouldn’t have allowed him to advance even his righteous intentions. And might have destroyed Wakanda altogether.

I found it frustrating and interesting that Killmonger is a villain and Agent Ross is a hero even though they were trained by the same system. If Killmonger is wrong, Ross should inherently be wrong, too. If Ross could be a hero, Killmonger definitely should be able to be as well. And what I felt while watching the movie has never left me: I didn’t want to root for Killmonger. But I wanted to be able to root for him.

I still do feel that Killmonger’s evolution is realistic. The kind of pain and abandonment he experienced can absolutely manifest itself in villainous ways. I wonder if I’d feel better about him being the villain if T’Challa hadn’t needed to present a partnership with the colonizer in order for T’Challa and Ross to be heros.

Did Ryan Coogler have a responsibility to depict Killmonger’s ideas—valid ideas—in a positive light? Is there any getting around the fact that they had to align his ideas of liberation for Black people with evil, and that Nakia’s ideas of liberation were thrust into the background in favor of her devotion to Wakanda and T’Challa?

It is nice to imagine a movie in which Killmonger isn’t a villain. Those of us who empathize with him, because we understand him, would have been able to appreciate a storyline in which he is a hero and white supremacy is seen as the enemy. And people with Killmonger’s ideas, who aren’t too far gone as he is, certainly exist (Nakia is almost there, minus her acceptance of Agent Ross). So including them wouldn’t just make sense for the storyline, our righteous indignation would also be presented as noble and just. Finally!

There are larger social and political implications of a film directed by a Black man, and filled with strong Black characters, perpetuating some of the greatest stereotypes about and demonization of Black liberation and Black radicals. In the comics—Killmonger is devoted to capitalism. That is conveniently left out here, as if Marvel is afraid to condemn it.

If Killmonger is simply wrong for being Black and angry, then what does that say about Black anger?

All he wants (beyond revenge for being abandoned, of course) is to use Wakanda’s technology to help Black people. He challenges the people of Wakanda to think about their inaction in the face of international turmoil that they have the power to do something about. If these ideas—which would be heroic in any other story where the problem wasn’t white supremacist colonization—make him a villain with no chance at redemption, what statement does the movie make about the notion that Black global solidarity and uprising is necessary?

In a time when Black freedom fighters, activists, and scholars are being labeled by American law and intelligence forces as “extremists,” portraying the only prominent Black American character—and one who represents our struggle—as disturbed, evil and pretty much as a terrorist sends a terrible message.

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In the end, Killmonger is dead, and Wakanda is forming a partnership with other countries, including America, through the United Nations. If T’Challa acknowledges that Killmonger is right, and Nakia has shared Killmonger’s perspective all along, how does the movie end with a partnership with the people we’ve all identified as the enemy?

Maybe we expect too much. Maybe we don’t expect enough. Either way, no matter how many times we sit in the theater and watch Black Panther over and over, we have a responsibility to recognize it for all that it is, and all that it’s not. Why is that important? Because representation matters. We have to be careful – and clear – about what we aspire to.

The revolution will be no re-run brothers

The revolution will be live

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