Why does Black Panther matter?

Not too long ago my wife and I attended the wedding of one of her colleagues. They both teach at a KIPP Charter school. The school is in an area of Atlanta known as the Bluff; low income, all Black. Her colleague is a white woman and invited one of her students who’s in kindergarten to participate in the wedding as the ring bearer. His energy, mannerisms, and visage reminded me of Mookie from Do the Right Thing; so that’s what we’ll call him here. At one point, before everything started, he began to cry in a fit of anxiety. When he was asked why he was crying he said, “there are so many white people”. It doesn’t matter why this was his response, the bottom line is he felt severely out of place. That he didn’t belong.

Now film is representative of how the world sees us and how we are forced to see ourselves. This is the power behind a movie from a major studio about a purposefully Black superhero. Yes, there have been movies about Black heroes to fight against the ills of the inner city (Blankman, Meteor Man) and heroes whose racial identity did not impact who they were as characters (Blade, Hancock). This is where Black Panther is poignant. There was no special place carved out for T’Challa to compensate for systemic oppression against him; he simply belonged. Furthermore, every tribe within Wakanda belonged. There were no partisan schisms or wealth divide; everyone within that nation belonged without question. That’s the true celebration. To witness a world where different tribes exist peacefully and thrive in a single country. To not worry if your differences will put your life at risk. To know that even though you may not be royalty, you are still valued. When people say “Wakanda forever”, it doesn’t mean they hate America it means they’ve found a place where they feel they belong and are accepted. Even if that place is fictional, it’s better than having nothing at all.

Admittedly you could focus on how the world of Wakanda evokes Afrofuturism, and how the essence of Afrofuturism is to imagine otherness in places where it had not been previously imagined. But at the same time, it evokes a familiar distance, a misplaced destiny. The paradoxical nature of Afrofuturism is that it is indicative of a stolen past and present just as much as it is a vision of an alternate future.

You could focus on how Vibranium is unlike anything the world has ever witnessed before but is coveted by everyone. Therefore, Vibranium is allegorical for “the cool” of which Black peoples have always been the vanguard. Or perhaps it is an acknowledgment of the art, math, engineering, and overall potential that was mined on the western African coast. Also interesting is that the often ridiculed lips of Black people were used as a point of authentication that one was indeed part of the most advanced society on earth.

All worthwhile ideas pale in comparison to the fact that there are thousands of Mookies that feel alienated in spaces that, implicitly or explicitly, have been deemed white only. Black kids that don’t believe they belong at a white wedding grow up to be adults that don’t believe they belong at white universities, have white careers, live in white houses (double entendre intended). The success of Black Panther as a movie is minuscule in comparison to its success as a symbol. White kids, without hesitation, will buy Black Panther toys and dress up in Halloween costumes. Black kids will see this and know that being accepted in “white spaces” is possible. Tupac called it Thug Mansion, “a spot where we can kick it, a spot where we belong, that’s just for us”. But imagine if you could also call that place America.