Escape to Wakanda

As I scrolled through my newsfeed this weekend I noticed an interesting trend: my white friends were posting about the Florida shooting and gun control, and my black friends were celebrating Black Panther. I don’t mean to imply that black people are oblivious or unsympathetic to recent events, in fact I believe it’s just the opposite. We live with such a heightened awareness of the world around us, that the release of The Black Panther gives us a chance to just be. By the time I watched the movie for the second time, I realized that it was almost therapeutic. For two and a half hours I didn’t have to worry about shootings, or racism, or Trump, or nazis, or border walls, because Wakanda was my home. “Wakanda forever” became more than a battle cry; it became an escape to a world I wish existed.

It’s difficult to describe the flood of emotions I felt as I watched the fictional story of Wakanda unfold. As a black American, woman, and teacher, there were so many things I wanted for myself and those around me. I wanted safety for my students, with the opportunity for them to excel with advanced technology at their fingertips. I wanted a hero we could look to help out in times of need, someone to emulate. I wanted to feel the same sense of identity and devotion to my country. But more than anything, I craved the untainted history of a strong African nation that was advanced and thriving and never colonized.

I may watch Black Panther every day until it leaves theaters. I feel like each time I see so much regal blackness on screen, I shed a small portion of the trauma that comes from being black in America. It’s a trauma that comes from centuries of oppression, so it can’t be erased with one film, but this is a start. My students’ reactions sum it up best: “Now I finally have someone to be this Halloween,” one kid told me this morning. I fought back tears at her innocent expression of how much representation matters.

The real world-this country to which I have no allegiance- is toxic. The anti-brown sentiment here is so thick it’s difficult to breathe. While the president continues to fan the flame with his talk of building walls and deportations, our neighbors and coworkers still refuse to acknowledge the the hatred and racism that have been allowed to flourish in this nation. Every time a black person is killed by the cops, or a racist comment is made by a politician; for each law and policy enacted to discount our communities, and every microaggression from a white colleague or “friend,” it gets more and more difficult to will yourself to engage.

Yet through it all, black people continue to show up. We put in the work it takes to live in a world that hates us, to bear the burden of our people, and to fight for a change. I can’t begin to describe how much of a physical, emotional, and spiritual toll that type of stress takes on one’s body. It’s exhausting. So if a movie can transport us to a place where brown skinned people are respected, revered, and the envy of the world, I’m here for it. My spirit needs this movie right now.

Wakanda Forever.

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