Black Panther V. Blac Chyna: By Queen Melamiyn
Black Panther vs Black Chyna
What’s more important?
Thursday, February 16, 2018. We’d been waiting all year. The pure anticipation had finally boiled to a peak. I still remember watching the trailer for the first time on a warm summer day. “Wow!” I thought to myself. Look at my people on the screen, looking like themselves and SAVING THE WORLD. Black Panther officially changed the superhero game. I went to see it for myself the very next night, on a Friday. That feeling that I got from the trailer was nothing close to the waves of pride and honor that I felt washing over me as I watched intently with infatuation in that comfy recliner at my local movie theater. I felt feelings I couldn’t even properly put together in this paragraph.
Other cultures; though they share a troubling experience with racism and their own forms of oppression, don’t really relate to the sense of abandonment from our roots; the longing for a homeland, that feeling that you just don’t quite fit in and you don’t quite have another option in a homeland. Wakanda is the motherland that each black soul that ever felt out of place, inadequate, or insufficient secretly has dreamed about at night while tears streamed down our faces from being born to a shorthand in a fixed poker game society. Killmonger’s pain, rage, and vengeful attitude all masking his raw, innocent need to return home to the place where he belongs is the embodiment of the modern day immigrant or traditional Black American spirit. We as a people have no true home. Africa does not welcome us back with open arms and America was never intended to be a place of prosperity to our kind. Black Panther was an extremely creative, beautiful, and articulate way of describing how every single Black American who gives a relative fuck about our history, bloodlines, and birth rites actually feels. It gives us the words no one ever cared enough to ask us to say. It united us in ways that we didn’t even have to speak of, but we did. We ARE Wakanda.
Black Panther’s release had Twitter in an entire Frenzy. At a RECORD BREAKING $426.6 Million in gross sales, Black Panther literally demolished any and all notions that an all-black Superhero movie would not be successful. I feel that this production sent a message to black people all over the world: WE ARE UNSTOPPABLE. The only ones stopping us from greatness are in fact, ourselves. We don’t need a producer, no major magic doors, no handouts – none of that. Black people will be great when black people mature and realize that our people are our family. Our people are our friends. If we don’t look out for our black brothers and sisters, then who will? If we don’t do for our brothers and sisters, who will? If we don’t trailblaze a way for our future generations now, again: WHO WILL? It’s too many forces against us for us to turn on each other. Some forces are so subtle as to reroute your attention and line of thinking before you even realize it.
On the following Monday after Black Panther’s release, right in the middle of my black people and my African people bonding, sharing jokes, dressing up and posting hilarious pictures, and sharing their own sweet perspectives about the cinematic hit, a random old video dropped on my Twitter Timeline of former stripper and sub-par celebrity figure, Blacc Chyna. Low and behold, all of that great black magic and all of the energy it manifested were almost instantly quieted with not even a 60-second video of Chynna giving up some very wack head. I wouldn’t have believed it was that easy to switch the focus of the general public if I wouldn’t have witnessed and picked up on it while viewing the video myself. Soon after it dropped, Twitter was back to being its normal unproductive, distracting self. We as a people, black and African and any good-hearted kinfolk of our kind alike, need to wake the fuck up. Seriously. There are forces in place to keep us from reaching our Wakandan potential and we cannot allow that to continue to be our story. We have to be better than distractions. We have to stick together and keep each other together. We have to address ourselves to defeat ourselves. You need a black sister to check you when you tripping just like you need a black brother to protect you from danger. My people just need some direction if you ask me. We are far closer to greatness than we’ve been lead to believe. We are capable. We are powerful. We are able. We are magic. We just need to pull our heads out of our asses and our feelings, stop pointing the finger at why things are the way that they are and figure out the next step. We have to set the record straight and to do so, it requires us to educate ourselves. We must stop being lazy. We must stop falling victim to distractions. We must strive to be our best selves, or our cards will always be shorthanded. Our lives will never be fair. Our people will never truly really be free until we free ourselves. My only wish and prayer is that that happens sooner, rather than later. It’s so easy to place blame and to retell a sad story. Let’s all blame ourselves and start from here.