Dreams of Wakanda

I’ve never been an avid comic book reader. I’ve never participated in cosplay. I’ve never felt a strong sense of Afrocentrism. Nevertheless, although feeling a little sheepish, I found myself in a dashiki joined by three close friends bubbling with excitement to see Black Panther on opening night during “Black History Month.” Similar to how I felt when I bused down to Washington D.C. to witness Barack Obama’s inauguration in 2009, I knew that I wanted to be a part of this monumental moment in cinematic history. Although this was more than just cinematic history, this was history.

I walked into the movie theatre in downtown Brooklyn and immediately saw a group of ladies wearing heels and African print dresses. The theatre was buzzing and it was at that moment where I realized that the excitement that I had read about on the internet was not only palpable but I was apart of the experience as well. I’ve probably seen hundreds of movies in the theatre but I had never experienced this level of excitement within the black community since Obama’s inauguration. Strangers were dapping each other, positively affirming each other’s clothing, staging photoshoots in front of the film’s poster, and for the first time ever there was an anti-bootlegging movement. In other theatres, they began the film by singing the Black National Anthem, Lift Every Voice and Sing.

Over the last ten years, our community has witnessed videos of fatal violence against black bodies in American streets. We’ve seen the bodies of Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Walter Scott, Tamir Rice, Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and Terrence Crutcher – to name a few – all lifeless in American streets. Something that I must painfully and dangerously admit that our culture has become desensitized to. If you’re like me and you view cinema as an escape from reality, then you know that most Black actors have largely not been portrayed in positions of prestige. Hollywood seems to only cast and awards us for subjugated roles as slaves, gangsters, and maids which only seem to reiterate false narratives of my community. We have and will always be more than the images in which Hollywood portrays us.

Even though I had always been a huge fan of past superhero movies The Meteor ManBlankmanand Blade as a kid, I knew the importance of seeing a big budget superhero film written, directed, and staring black artists. Seeing the images of people that look like you as superheroes is critically important for the subconscious of little boys and girls. After all, the first time I ever dressed up for Halloween at 24-years-old was as Green Lantern.

In 1975, a relatively unknown 27-year-old Director directed a movie that became a blockbuster hit. Jaws launched the now iconic and wildly lucrative career for famed Director, Steven Spielberg. My hope is that after also directing Fruitvale Station and Creed that this is the road that lies ahead for Black Panther Director Ryan Coogler’s career.

That said, I have always been skeptical of anything that has hype surrounding it. So I won’t lie, I was skeptical of actually how good the storyline of this film would be. Less than an hour into this film, I knew that this was on the way to being my favorite movie ever. Not kidding, Hitch has been my favorite movie for over a decade and I remember seeing that film in theatres too. For those that know me well, know that this is a big deal. A positive black film that portrays African and American black people displaying power, love, happiness, fatherhood, national pride, loyalty, intellect, innovators of technology, a dope dap and a tribal monarchy that is founded on physical strength delighted my soul and aligned with who I am. In a lot of ways, that narrative is what the Soulful Silverback blog is all about. So you could imagine that I almost leaped out of my seat when I saw M’Baku, leader of the Jabari Tribe, on screen!

After the excitement and love of the post-film photoshoot subsided, I left the film saddened that the streets of Brooklyn weren’t the streets of Wakanda. I was even more saddened that as a result of colonization, revisionist history, the genocide of the slave trade, and corruption – Wakanda was just a figment of Stan Lee’s imagination and not a real place. My mind began to soar with the idea that what if Wakanda could have been real? What if Erik Killmonger’s idea of black liberation came true and the continent of Africa united to become a military and economic world power? What if our African brothers and sisters had come to rescue us? What if those of us across the diaspora all across the Americas engaged in the healing process with our dear African brothers and sisters to restore the years that the locusts have eaten to make the dream of Wakanda a reality? What if…?.What if…? What if…? ..but until our liberation is a reality then Wakanda Forever!

This article was originally published on 1 March 2018. 

Similar Read(s): LCR Perspectives on Black Panther

MLK 50: BANKRUPT JUSTICE

[This is part two of a three-part series on American gun violence. Read part one here.]

“Man, I’ll tell you this, if your big Black ass ever gets stopped by a cop just lay on the ground and don’t move. I work with them and I know them racists will shoot your Black ass in a heartbeat,” said my childhood friend, a Black NYPD officer, with a chuckle and a swig of a beer one summer night.

Given that they were to write the first governing document for a democracy in the history of the world, the writers of the United States Constitution had a seismic task ahead of them. As this young nation progressed, they decided to update – or amend – the language in the original governing Document.

The Fourteenth Amendment provides the promise of equal protection under the law and the Fifth Amendment provides the promise that restricts the government’s ability to prosecute folks accused of a crime. In short, the Fourteenth Amendment promises fairness and the Fifth Amendment promises order.

You see, these are some of the “promissory notes” that Dr. King referenced in his I Have A Dream speech when he said, “It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt.” 

The enforcement of Law in the United States effectively rolls up to the Justice Department which is now overseen by Attorney General, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III. Why the name Jefferson Beauregard you might ask? Well, because his namesake is derived from Confederate icons, Jefferson Davis (president) and Pierre Gustave Toutant-Beauregard (general). Yes, the same Confederate States that seceded, formed their own government and went to war with the United States to uphold the right to own black human beings as property. I digress; loosely speaking, the Attorney General acts as the top Law Enforcement Officer in the nation and I have a pretty good idea of what his ancestors would think about laws that pertain to my humanity.

So if you dig deeper into my childhood friends cautionary advice, what he was effectively warning me was that because of the color of my skin and the size of my person that law enforcement, backed by the full power of both the Constitutions of the United States and the State of New York, would forego my rights to fairness and order and snatch my life in a heartbeat.

Yet again, my friend’s cautionary advice came to life last week in Sacramento. Stephon Clark was fatally struck by six out of twenty bullets, in his back, while in his grandmother’s backyard. Just as I’ve come to expect, “law enforcement” supporters made repeated the same cold asinine statements:

“If he only would have complied with the officers’ commands.”

“If he only didn’t run.”

“If he only had his hands up.”

“You put on a uniform.”

“It’s a split-second life or death decision on whether or not someone has a gun.”

As we reflect on the fifty years that have passed since Dr. King’s assassination, lets us also remember that not much has changed since April 4, 1968. In the last few weeks, America’s bank of justice returned the promissory notes of Stephon Clark and Alton Sterling marked “insufficient funds.”

From the Attorney General to local Law Enforcement, America continues to remind us that her bank of justice remains bankrupt insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. I pray that my loved ones never receive a promissory note marked “insufficient funds” and that my childhood friend is not a Prophet.

Rest In Power: Stephon Clark, Alton Sterling, and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Part Three: Dancing With the Devil in the Pale Moonlight 

This article was originally published on 4 April 2017.