As if the world needs another “Black Panther” blog entry, but I’m writing one anyway. It was that good. I finally saw the movie today after being unable to see it last week on the opening day.
“Which part did you like?” I asked the young man to my right as the end credits began.
“The fighting,” he replied. “And you?”
“The girls. They are strong,” I replied.
I turned next to the mother and her two kids to the left of my mother and asked her the same. The mother was trying to hold back tears. They only happened to still be sitting there because the daughter, a pre-teen, warned her mother that Marvel comic movies always have another scene worth waiting for at the end.
Indeed, we’d just heard “We all know the truth — more connects us than separates us. We must find a way to look after one another as if we are one tribe.”
I won’t provide the context as I don’t want to offer a spoiler. Suffice to say, I appreciate so much present in this film. The reminder that people of African descent are amazing, but also that kumbaya “more connects” bit. I try to live both realities daily.
It’s not easy.
And still I try. I am not the only one.
My mom, who slept through a good bit of it, did wake up on the best parts, suggesting something. What exactly, I’m still not sure. On my lap was the African robe she bought at a vendor in New Orleans. It was exactly 20 years ago. So much has changed in both of our lives since then. I don’t find it ironic that we had that robe today. We both had cowrie shells on, too. Like others, we wanted to wear something from the continent. To remember. So much.
Postscript: I deliberately did not announce the race of the young man on my right and the mother and her two children on my mom’s left. Know that this film is reaching many of varying backgrounds and I think that’s a good thing.