“I am Killmonger.” How Black Panther tackles respectability politics.

Minor Spoilers Ahead**

Confident. Cocky. Abrasive. Ebonics-using. Cursing. Royalty. Natural hair swangin’. Yoked up. Special Forces. MIT Grad. Black. Not often all heard together at the same time.

The Black Panther’s villain, Erik Killmonger, is a rage-driven product of two worlds. Abandoned by the African utopia Wakanda, raised in the mean streets of Oakland. One part royalty, two parts Tupac. As a young man, his life was shaped by death. He watched black bodies fall daily, in a neighborhood not quite unlike my own. One day he found out that there was a hidden paradise. A black Mt. Olympus. Not only run by people that looked like him. He belonged to it. Through the entire history of modern civilization, through colonization, the slave trade, systemic and institutional racism, droughts and famine, and rampant war they sat on the sidelines. Unlike most Wakandans, he witnessed the very worst that Black people had to experience and the result of hundreds of years of “that’s not my problem.” So Killmonger snapped.

#HeyAuntie

As a black man from the inner city, it’s hard not to relate to his frustration. If Wakanda was a real place it would be beautiful, but it would also be partially responsible. There is a conversation that happens in Black Panther that has been in the hushed living rooms of those of us that represent the African Diaspora for years. A question of our shared responsibility and connectedness that plays out between a larger audience than ever before. I won’t spoil it, but Erik Killmonger says something about slavery at the end of the movie that shook almost every African and African descendant right to their very core.

Question. What is the difference between allowing travesty and causing it? If you have the means, I’d say nothing.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

There is something interesting and unique about this character. He’s not the debonair, sophisticated, stereotypically brainiac villain of the past. He’s hood and fresh AF (that's a term for the millennials). He’s never compromised the integrity of his identity. Not once. On paper, he’s a suave, smooth talking, proper English speaking Black James Bond.

In action, he’s the gangsta that I know. He’s the young homie down the street with a mixtape. He’s the brother at the factory with an affinity for ancient religious texts and historical documents. He’s a hotep with a plan. And honestly, I’m here for it.

His comment about being followed around the museum that is an all too familiar feeling.

There is an idea of positive blackness. It is non-threatening, well-spoken, and polished.

The King of Cool, President Barack Obama

It is inviting, family-focused, and intellectual.

Everyone's Favorite Uncle in the 90's, Uncle Phil / James Avery (RIP)

It is still cool, down-to-earth, and hip.

The Fresh Prince of Family Values, Will Smith

And it is elegant, warm, and has gravitas.

The Awe-Inspiring Viola Davis

When black men are killed, the media always manages to find every piece of dirt and scary photo they can find.

Mean mugging isn't justification for murder.

It seems to say, “Yeah they were killed, but was it really so bad?”

Their lifestyle justified their death. Smoking weed? Holding a gun (real or fake)? T-shirt too long? They deserved it. During a rash of police killings, the hashtag #IfTheyGunnedMeDown emerged. The question was simple. If I was killed by police, what picture would they use? Me at my “best”, or at my “worst.”

Now, worst is the word I have an issue with. Drinking and smoking is an American pastime. Fifty-six percent of Americans drink. Fifty-two percent have tried cannabis. Holding guns? Twenty-five percent own firearms and there are 89 guns for every 100 people in this country. Almost everyone could get caught in a picture, smoking, drinking, or holding a gun. So why are those images an indictment of the brown person in the picture?

Those of us that want to be heard walk a tight-rope. We speak the Queen’s English. We make sure our Eurocentric formal wear is freshly tailored. We rebuttal arguments, but police our tone as not to be too threatening. If we engage at all. Sometimes we drop back a few paces if we feel we’re a little too close to the white woman walking in front of us. We know that if we are killed suddenly, all of our hard work could be undone by the picture we took at 14 with a du-rag and a gun we found in the street. Erik Killmonger don’t give a damn about that.

Do you know how liberating it is to see an MIT Grad speaking Ebonics/AAVE talking about Black globalism as a collective identity? A member of the most elite group of fighters on earth who is also a brilliant strategist and scientist? Yes, he is the bad guy. He’s a violent sociopath. But his motives have depth and are understandable. Poverty is a theory for T’Challa / The Black Panther. Death and poverty was a waking nightmare for Erik.

Our ‘level of public blackness’ is not only policed by social constructs, but by other black people. As if, the level of stereotype you emit will drop their Wakanda-styled illusion shield. Then people will see how black they are as well. If I had a dollar for the number of times someone said to me, 'Don’t tell people you don’t have a degree', 'Don’t speak like that in mixed company', 'Maybe this music choice isn’t appropriate” I might actually have enough money to move to Wakanda. The idea of “too-black” is the pre-programmed sociologic fear that once your blackness is discovered your opportunities will be limited. This leads to MANY generational clashes.

“Be confident in your heritage. Be confident in your blackness….There’s no straitjacket, there’s no constraints, there’s no litmus test for authenticity.” — Barack Obama

Killmonger is not just a dangerous force in Black Panther. He’s dangerous for what he represents. Just a strong and smart as the hero. Driven by righteous fury. This is a well-rounded and incredible character that you can honestly relate to. What’s worse? T’Challa understands his position. What’s more? I do too, and I'm not the only one. Erik Killmonger is an extremist representation of what happens when abandonment and the quest to find one’s identity meet isolation and rage. He’s also an example of the complexities of blackness and the malleability of those boxes.

There are many complex identities in this movie. The tech-savvy, confident and charismatic Shuri. The fiercely nationalist but worldly Nakia. This isn't an article to dismiss the more dangerous aspects of the Erik Killmonger character. I wouldn't encourage anyone to go rogue and try to destroy the world or choke up any old ladies. I just think it's important that we realize that this was not JUST a villian. It was a representation of people who actually do exist.

Ain’t nobody gotta be a ‘safe-black’ to be smart. Aint nobody gotta be a nobleman to be impressive. Don’t nobody gotta fit into your construct of blackness to be authentic. In the words of Kendrick Lamar, “I am T’Challa, I am Killmonger.”

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Eric Thomas is a Branding Specialist and Senior Partner at Saga MKTG based in Detroit MI. He’s also an entrepreneur who never believes “the way it has been done” is the “way it must be done.”

www.EricSThomas.com

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