Black Panther Sucks—So What?

I admit to being a heretic. Sometimes a cultural phenomenon arises that everyone is supposed to enjoy—but for some reason, you cannot make yourself feel the hype. I found myself in that situation with the latest installation of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Black Panther left me unmoved. I was bored.

This blasphemous confession shook the foundations of a friendship between me and a friend of mine who happens to be black. She loved the movie and my lack of enthusiasm had repercussions that I did not expect. "Instances such as things make me realize that we have very little in common," she announced. "I begin to wonder if it is just like that with white men in general." 

Insinuating that the end of the friendship is near is a massive consequence for not liking the same movie. Bringing up my skin color and gender as a figurative gulf between us was shocking. In my desire to stay spoiler-free and blocking all the Black Panther related news, I had not yet realized that this is not just a movie. It is a cultural moment. Black Panther is one small step for a black man, one giant leap for the black mankind peoplekind. The few reviewers who had the audacity to give this movie a bad rating have been digitally castrated by both social and traditional media. Apparently, this is one of those instances when not riding the bandwagon makes the person instantly a Nazi.

"This is one of those instances when not riding the bandwagon makes the person a Nazi."

I hated The Last Jedi because of its overabundance of identity politics propaganda. This was not the case with Black Panther. I did neither hate it nor find its few political messages bothering. I simply zoned out and wanted it to end. Blue-haired feminists may have adopted it as their latest virtue signaling tool, but if the production team wanted to promote a threadbare postmodernist ideology, they did it in a way that was not distracting. And in the end, it was Bilbo Baggins, a small white man, who saved the day. The directors could have made that character black, too, if they really had wanted to make this movie just about the heroics of black people. But they did not. This movie is not about identity politics. It strikes a chord with the black community for other reasons.

Racial divisions have never really registered with me. I have a very naive view of the world where people are "not judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character," as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said. I have never classified my friend as "a person of color." In my mind, she is a well-educated, funny individual with whom I have in-depth discussions and enjoyable bantering. Reducing her whole identity to her skin's melanin-levels is beneath me (and that is why I loathe identity politics). I have wanted to leave any notion of racially motivated bigotry in the history books where it belongs.

Yet, after some time of contemplation, I started to understand her emotional reaction to my lack of enthusiasm. I have witnessed grotesque racism. Years ago, I was riding my bike and had to stop when I saw a drunken older couple harassing a young black boy. "Go back where you came from," was the kindest cliche that came out of their mouth and everything else is unprintable. This horrified latchkey kid was desperately trying to defend himself by spinning his keychain. He was a boy of 10 years being verbally abused by two 40-year-olds who had not seen a sober day in weeks—and just because they did not like the tone of his skin. I managed to make them to leave the boy alone, but the memory of his terrified eyes will stay with me always. 

Something tells me that the memory sticks with the boy, too. Whether or not he grew up to be a Killmonger, consumed by fantasies of revenge, that I will never know. But I would not be surprised if he did. I have been bullied and vilified by adults for many reasons in my childhood, but not once in my life two strangers have made me fear for my life because of the color of my skin. If this is a common experience for black individuals, I can understand where this collective anger is coming from. 

Buried feelings of collective frustration and anger can erupt in mysterious ways. I certainly did not expect that a lighthearted superhero movie would be that way. I enjoyed the Blade trilogy in my youth. Luke Cage got bad reviews, but I found the show thoroughly entertaining. The Rock has played the role of Hercules, a demi-god. Morgan Freeman has played the role of The God Almighty! I thought that Black Panther is yet another black superhero movie. It completely surprised me that it has become a symbolic game-changer, a bastion of African American identity, and that criticizing it could be read as an attempt to silence the just rage of the black community.

"Wakanda is a futuristic North Korea."

I disliked this movie for a very simple reason: I loved Logan. After seeing a gruesome superhero movie with true emotional depth and character development, I have not been able to fully emerge myself into these PG-13 adventures. I did not enjoy Black Panther because I found myself unable not to take it too seriously. I knew nothing about the character or the fictional nation of Wakanda before the intro. I found Wakanda's backstory silly. The culture and politics of the nation are even more ridiculous and even disturbing.

Wakanda is technologically the most advanced civilization on the planet but the same cannot be said about its human rights situation. Wakanda has no democratic institutions. It is an absolute monarchy where the king makes all the laws—and is the law. There is no freedom of movement, which is implied by the fact that Wakanda is walled by a force field camouflage that keeps the outsiders out. As no one outside knows about the true nature of Wakanda means that it effectively keeps dissident Wakandans in, too. In Wakanda, individualism is shunned and citizens have to belong to a tribe and each of these tribes seems to have a caste-like system, which is enforced by tribal mutilations such as lip plates and scarification. Economic inequality must be rampant as his futuristic nation is filled with third world bazaars. Wakanda is nothing but a futuristic North Korea. 

"Not liking Black Panther does not make anyone a racist."

All that being said, the Marvel Cinematic Universe is not known for its commitment to realism. Silliness is a not a deal-breaker. But the implied horrors of Wakandan way of life prevented me from being engrossed in this movie. If anything, I felt grossed out. I found the fictional nation of Wakanda to be savagery. I did not personally relate to the underlying theme of black oppression even though I can understand why others can and why I probably should, too. I did not care about any of the characters. And I do not feel bad about saying any of this.

If this movie empowers black children and offers them relatable idols, that is only laudable—more power to them as far as I am concerned. Although, I find it sad that after all these efforts for equality, people still identify so strongly with their skin color. White nationalism is one of the ugliest movements ever conceived. Witnessing behavior around this movie that can be only described as a black version of it is a sad, retrogressive turn of events. I truly hope that it will be a short-lived, atavistic reaction to whatever racism still remains in the Western society. Whatever it is, not liking this movie does not make anyone a racist. People cannot be demanded to have a good time.