Like so many other movie-goers, I went to Black Panther expecting to fall in love with writer-director Ryan Coogler’s beautiful vision of Wakanda. The symbolic importance of this fantastical African nation, untouched by slavery or colonization and filled with Black images of grandeur, cannot be overstated. Our romanticized vision of what Africa could have been had the continent not been brutalized for capitalist gain – or what Black people could be in a world free from White Supremacy – is the Wakandan Dream.

But instead of allowing us to revel in the Wakandan Dream, Coogler exposes its naiveté by revealing Wakanda to be tainted with elitist, selfish, isolationist notions that make it, at best, uninterested in any connection with the African diaspora, and at worst, complicit in the oppression of Black people worldwide.

What he builds in its place could be called a New Wakanda: a vision for Black excellence where our achievement, in the absence of uplift, is not enough and may even be problematic. This is not the Wakanda we were expecting, but I think it might be the Wakanda we need as we contemplate our place in the struggle for justice in the twenty-first Century.

I saw Ryan Coogler give a lecture at the University of Chicago in 2016. At some point during his talk on his journey as a filmmaker he asked if there were any African American Studies majors in the crowd. When Black students responded by saying African American Studies wasn’t offered as a major at the school, Coogler raised his eyebrows and said, “Y’all are doing something about that, right?”

It was this question, even more so than his impressive film resume and intellectual acuity, that made me confident he was going to give us something special with Black Panther. Making it, whether in Hollywood or at an elite University, isn’t enough; the next step was to create change for themselves and those that come after. Coming from Coogler, a thirty-one-year old Black man from Oakland who still talks like a thirty-one-year old Black man from Oakland—in other words, not like Hollywood, this exhortation felt natural and inspiring. This is the lesson we are meant to take from the New Wakanda.

I’ve been watching Black people and people of color react to the Black Panther film and hype on social media for some time. A few years back, the hashtag #BlackPantherSoLit celebrated the number and quality of Black actors that were being cast. And some weeks before the movie came out the hashtag #WhatBlackPantherMeansToMe offered love notes to the filmmakers, expressing how powerful its images were for us personally, and as a people, even before we were able to see it in theaters.

One video posted on Twitter showed a group of Black folks hugging a Black Panther movie poster, marveling that Whites were able to experience the satisfaction of being empowered by representation in movies on a regular basis. One man in the video says, “This what y’all feel like all the time? I would love this country too.”

Much of the conversation around why Black Panther was so powerful, apart from the idea of on-screen representation, was the setting. The movie takes place in Wakanda: beautiful, powerful, un-colonized, and technologically superior to the West. Wakanda flips the narrative that characterizes Africans as unsophisticated and offers an alternative to the racial power dynamics that structure our everyday interactions.

My favorite scene is when the CIA’s Agent Ross, the only White man shown in Wakanda, starts to “mansplain” in front of Lord M’Baku, the ruler of the Jabari Tribe. M’Baku responds by barking at him in an aggressive manner, shutting him up. His soldiers join in the jeering, and the result is terrifying. You can almost see Agent Ross, portrayed by The Hobbit’s Martin Freeman, transform back into the undersized Bilbo Baggins. “You cannot talk,” M’Baku tells him. We are used to Hollywood giving us movies where White men are the saviors (think The Last Samurai or The Last of the Mohicans), not movies where they are stripped of their unearned privileges.

The Wakandan Dream is disrupted, however, not because of White intervention, but because Coogler pushes us to reflect on what the country means for Black people.

He forces us to ask the question, if Wakanda is the most technologically advanced country on the planet, and has been for over a millennium, what must their internal dynamics, foreign policy, and attitudes towards outsiders have been over the past 500 years as they watched—from near and afar and without compunction—the brutal oppression of Black people all over the globe?

Where was Wakanda when Europeans invaded the African continent, murdering and enslaving millions, stealing natural resources and destroying histories and cultures? Where was Wakanda when Europeans created the concept of race in order to justify their brutal oppression of Black people who they characterized as less than human?

Racism did not happen by accident. It is an invention of capitalism, intentionally weaponized in order to create and maintain renewable and exploitable resources and workers around the globe. As the most advanced civilization on the planet, Wakanda could potentially have not only stopped colonization and slavery, but also the development of the ideology of racism in the first place.

Instead, Wakanda allowed the myth of race to become codified and ingrained in institutions, policies, governments, hearts and minds across the globe, all while hiding its technological marvels behind a stereotypical curtain of villages and third-world living conditions that match the inaccurate portrayals of Africa that dominate the media.

We saw Wakanda as a Black Garden of Eden unblemished by the sin of White Supremacy. But Coogler showed us that just because Wakanda was uncolonized, that does not mean it escaped the horrors of colonization.

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Coogler uses three key moments in Black Panther to break down the Wakandan Dream before replacing it with the New Wakanda. The first blemish on the Wakandan Dream is revealed as we learn about the contemporary motivations and manifestations of the nation’s isolationist international policies. T’Challa, ruler of Wakanda and the titular hero, talks with his friend W’Kabi about whether Wakanda should be doing more to help the world through aid or refugee programs. W’Kabi responds by saying, “If you let the refugees in, they bring their problems, and then Wakanda is like everywhere else.”

This sentiment sounds eerily similar to the views held by y’all’s President. How do we make sense of this Alt-Right-style understanding of the perils of open borders, or the way Wakandans seem to think so little of their African neighbors? At first, I rationalized this as being just one voice among many. W’Kabi could be an outlier whose perspective was being used to drive conflict in a movie about Wakandan’s internal politics, right?

Not quite. W’Kabi’s attitude actually exemplifies the mentality that has guided Wakandan international and immigrant policy for hundreds of years. Wakandan borders were closed to outsiders as they chose to hide their technology and resources in order to stay safe. Trump wants his wall, and Wakanda has its vibranium-powered hologram.

W’Kabi’s position is in contrast with that of Nakia, T’Challa’s ex-lover, who insists that Wakanda has a duty to the world and is better equipped to help than any other nation, a fact that T’Challa takes an entire movie to learn. This inaction is not enough to mar the Wakandan Dream, but does get us to start questioning it.

The second strike against the Dream is more damning: we learn the way Wakandan leaders have actively used lies and murder to hide the truth about issues affecting the country.

We see King T’Chaka, T’Challa’s late father and the former Black Panther, travel to Oakland, CA to confront his brother, Prince N’Jobu. We are told that N’Jobu had been radicalized while working in Oakland as a War Dog and had helped an outsider set off a bomb and steal vibranium, Wakanda’s most precious natural resource and the catalyst for their technological advancement.

But being radicalized can have a different meaning for Black folks in Oakland, the birthplace of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense. Prince N’Jobu explains his need for the vibranium by referencing the Black struggle in America, saying, “Their leaders have been assassinated, communities flooded with drugs and weapons, they are overly policed and incarcerated.”  Because T’Chaka and Wakanda were unwilling to help, Prince N’Jobu took it upon himself to take and use vibranium to empower Black folks to be able to achieve freedom and self-determination.

We don’t get a chance to react to the idea that with Wakanda’s help Black people could be free because after N’Jobu pulled a gun on Zuri, who he had just learned was not his friend but a Wakandan sent to spy on him, he was killed by his brother T’Chaka.

Not only did this act of fratricide save T’Chaka the embarrassment of the rest of Wakanda knowing that a member of the royal family had been behind the worst attack on the country in recent history, but it also ensured that the Wakandan people would never hear N’Jobo’s impassioned articulation of the brutalities facing Blacks around the globe or his radical and convincing argument for how Wakanda could be central to their freedom.

The third and final strike at the Wakandan Dream comes from Killmonger, the son of Prince N’Jobu who grew up in Oakland but aspires to rule Wakanda. In the opening scene of the movie, Prince N’Jobu tells a young Killmonger the history of Wakanda, the unique power of vibranium, and the way Wakanda hid itself from the world and the world’s problems in order to protect itself. But Killmonger, a Prince who was orphaned by a King and abandoned in enemy territory, had his sweet Wakandan Dream turn to bitterness as his acute awareness of racial oppression conflicted with his knowledge of the tools that could free our bonds if only his royal family would be willing to lift a hand.

Throughout the film, Killmonger’s precise, succinct, and aggressive articulation of the way Blacks are oppressed is reminiscent of Black activists dragging racists on twitter, except his twitter fingers turn to trigger fingers without discretion.

After killing and manipulating his way into Wakanda, Killmonger stands before King T’Challa and the royal council and explains his reasons for coming, saying, “Y’all look pretty comfortable—must feel good. It’s two billion people in the world who look like us, but their lives are a lot harder. Wakanda has the tools to liberate ‘em all.”

His proposal is intriguing. After 500 years of oppression, worldwide freedom in the fullest sense has never really been on the table for Black folks, even in fiction. In the US, our demands are typically less ambitious. We want the police to stop killing us, equal shots at jobs, access to healthcare, and our kids to go to schools that work.

In this universe, however, the richest and most technologically advanced nation in the world is Black. We have seen that Wakandan technology borders on magic; wounds that would be life threatening anywhere in the world are healed overnight in Wakanda. Killmonger, therefore, asks a reasonable question—why haven’t these resources been used to free our people?

Later on, after defeating T’Challa in one-on-one combat and taking the throne, Killmonger tells the council the details of his plan. He wants to arm Black folks around the world so that they can kill their oppressors, including, he notes, “their children, and anyone else who takes their side.”

This line reveals the biggest problem with Killmonger’s vision for Black power; it is based not on an abolitionists desire for freedom, but on a colonialist’s desire for domination. Killmonger suggests an inversion of the power structure that kills and subjugates Whites the same way Whites did—and still do—Blacks and people of color in Africa, Asia, and the Americas. This is revenge, not justice or restoration.

Killmonger could have been a revolutionary, but instead reveals himself to be what the Jeff Sessionses of the world want Black leaders to be—dangerous Black Identity Extremists. They wish we hated them as much as they hate us so that they could justify silencing our movements with murder and incarceration, and so that the brutality of oppression could be morally defensible.

This is why radical Black movements have to deal with the intentional misrepresentation of their motives. Bobby Seale, the co-founder of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, said, “The examiner made a report in last Sunday’s paper that we were anti-White . . . this is a boldface lie. We don’t hate nobody because of their color, we hate oppression. We hate murder of Black people in our communities.” In the same vein, prominent voices from the Movement for Black Lives have to consistently combat the myth that the Movement is in any way in favor of violence against Whites or the police.

In the end, the audience cannot accept Killmonger’s vision for a Wakandan empire not because we find revolution distasteful, but because his idea of Black empowerment has been infected by the tools and motives of White supremacy. Remember that the CIA-trained Killmonger says more than once, “I know how the oppressor thinks,” and aims to use their methods against them. But he also uses the colonizer’s methods to take over Wakanda, and is blind or indifferent to the damage this Western-style proclivity towards domination has on the nation and its people. During the final battle scene, T’Challa makes this point as he says to Killmonger regarding the oppressors he hates, “You have become them.”

These faults add complexity to one of the most compelling and empathetic villains we have seen in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But despite his colonialist-contaminated plan, Killmonger’s character strikes the final blow against the Wakandan Dream, which is revealed to be no Dream at all. We believed in the Wakandan Dream because we thought it was untouched by the evils of racism, slavery, colonization, and oppression. But through Killmonger T’Challa learned that far from being immune to these evils, Wakanda enabled them with its decision to isolate itself and ignore the problems of the world.

T’Challa confronts this truth when he journeys to the ancestral plane, an afterlife of sorts. He yells at his father and at all other Black Panthers past: “You were wrong! All of you were wrong!”

In true heroic form, T’Challa returns to the land of the living to not only defeat the antagonist Killmonger in battle, but also to introduce the world to the New Wakanda, which will no longer prioritize secrecy over justice, nor be complicit in the continued oppression of the African Diaspora.

One of the final scenes of the film shows T’Challa’s New Wakanda at work. He and his tech genius sister Shuri travel to Oakland where T’Challa reveals his plan for the first International Wakandan Outreach Center. We don’t know enough about this center to critique it as an intervention model, but we know it represents a shift in Wakandan policy. T’Challa ends Wakanda’s decision to hide its technology when he takes his airplane off invisibility-mode and Shuri begins to talk to children in the community about the futuristic jet they can only describe as a “Bugatti spaceship.”

This marriage of policy and community work is reminiscent of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense, who despite being primarily remembered for its Police Watch and powerful demonstrations, spent more time serving people in the community than protesting. The legacy of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense includes its free breakfast and community health care services that became models for national education and public health programs. In this tradition, T’Challa’s first step in Oakland indicates that the political decision to no longer stand by as the world falls apart will be accompanied with action.

The Wakandan Dream is enticing because we have never been given such a beautiful picture of Black excellence in a mainstream film and because the American Dream has been out of reach for most of us for the past four hundred years. But being both powerful and uncolonized in a fictional world where colonization did indeed take place is nothing to be proud of; it is something to be ashamed of. It only could have happened if those Blacks with the power and resources chose to stand by as an entire continent was brutalized.

Ryan Coogler killed the Wakandan Dream because it was a Dream that was contingent on Black suffering. In contrast, the New Wakanda he erects in its place serves as an example of what Black achievement can be. Nakia articulated a vision for the New Wakanda in the first few minutes of the movie, saying, “Wakanda is strong enough to help others and protect ourselves at the same time.”

Black advancement in token quantities has often been used by conservatives as evidence that racism is dead—If Dr. so-and-so made it out of the inner-city, why can’t they all make it? If we buy into this myth, which is especially tempting when it positions us as being more talented or hard working than others, we are complicit in legitimizing an unequal system.

We don’t have the gift, vibranium, but we do have other gifts. And it is up to us to decide whether we use them to make ourselves the successful exception to the rules of racial oppression (the Wakanda hiding in the midst of a colonized land) or rule changers (the Wakanda that uses its strengths to weaken oppression everywhere). Black excellence, from this point of view, is more than just Blacks doing well despite a world that wants them to fail. It’s Blacks challenging the system that was designed to entrap them.

As I wrote this last paragraph, my 5-year old son walked down the stairs wearing a Black Panther mask and claws. I got down on one knee and asked, in my best Wakandan accent, what I could do to serve the King. Like millions of other parents, I marvel at the images of Black excellence that our children are being exposed to in this film and love to see their impact on young people. They give us joy, for good reason. But, images are just the first stage of the New Wakandan vision for Black excellence.

The next stage is action. Some of us are successful despite the racism that limits our opportunities, and those in power hope this will appease us. But our communities are still plagued with unequal access to healthcare and education. We are still jailed at disproportionate rates and given longer sentences for the same crimes. And, it is clear from the police violence epidemic that after 150 years of freedom, the state still does not value Black lives.

Coogler is raising his eyebrows at us again. “Y’all are doing something about that, right?”

 

Robert D. Eschmann is a professor at Boston University where he teaches classes on racial justice. His research examines the intersections between race, education, and social media. Dr. Eschmann received his PhD from the University of Chicago in 2017, and he has also been a part of several projects that explore the relationship between social media and gang violence, with an emphasis on technology-based intervention methods. Dr. Eschmann is also an avid reader and re-reader of fantasy fiction who uses his children as a justification for his continued interest in young-adult fiction, weekly trips to the comic book store, and video game budget. He is a hip-hop connoisseur who taught kids to rap, and think critically about rap in Chicago Public Schools.

 

 

Dr. Reynaldo Anderson is an Associate Professor of Communication and Chair of the Humanities department at Harris-Stowe State University in Saint Louis Missouri and serves as an executive board member of the Missouri Arts Council. He is the Past Chair of the Black Caucus of the National Communication Association (NCA). He has previously worked for international prison reform with C.U.R.E. International in Douala, Cameroon, and as a development ambassador in Ghana.

Dr. Anderson publishes extensively in the area of Afrofuturism, communication studies, and the African diaspora. He is the executive director and co-founder of the Black Speculative Arts Movement (BSAM), a network of artists, curators, intellectuals, and activists. He is the co-editor of the book Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness (Lexington books); the volume Cosmic Underground: A Grimoire of Black Speculative Discontent (Cedar Grove Press); co-editor of the forthcoming volume The Black Speculative Art Movement: Black Futurity, Art+Design; co-editor of “Black Lives, Black Politics, Black Futures,” a forthcoming special issue of TOPIA: Canadian Journal of Cultural Studies; and co-editor of “When is Wakanda: Afrofuturism and Dark Speculative Futurity,” a forthcoming special issue of  the Journal of Futures Studies.

 

For those who are not familiar with your work and the rapidly growing Black Speculative Arts Movement, could you historicize and discuss the difference between Afrofuturism and Afrofuturism 2.0?

Afrofuturism is a word that emerged in the early 1990s during a period of time that I think was best characterized by scholar Barbara Christian in 1987 as “The Race for Theory.” During that period, towards the end of the Cold War, you had a generation of scholars like Cornell West, Molefi Asante, bell hooks, Henry Louis Gates, and others that gained notoriety and were introducing ideas to explain the cultural moment we were living in. During that time, the cultural critic Mark Dery and others coined the term Afrofuturism around predominantly African American speculative traditions and practices.

It can be argued we are currently in a second race for theory that can be traced back to the middle of the last decade with the emergence of social media, forces of globalization, and the economic crash of 2008. Afrofuturism 2.0—a term I described in interaction with Alondra Nelson during a conference at Emory University and published in a volume I co-edited with Charles E. Jones entitled Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness—represents the second phase of Afrofuturism emerging in the last several years that acknowledges its development as an emerging pan-African social philosophy characterized by dimensions that include metaphysics, aesthetics, theoretical and applied sciences, social sciences, and programming. Black Panther represents a mash-up of those dimensions in a popular cinematic format.

 

And what distinguishes the Black Speculative Arts Movement from Afrofuturism or how do they relate?

The term Black Speculative Arts Movement was coined by the visual artist John Jennings. The movement drew upon previous work by writers and thinkers such as Sheree Renee Thomas, Octavia Butler, Amiri Baraka, Kodwo Eshun, John Akomfrah, and Nnedi Okorafor. I would argue the key event where we acknowledge its existence as a movement was the exhibition Unveiling Visions: The Alchemy of the Black Imagination co-curated by John Jennings and me at the Schomburg library in Harlem. The traveling convention format was founded, with participation from Maia Williams, at Harris-Stowe State University in Saint Louis, MO at the end of the Harlem exhibition. The work from that co-curated event is coming out in a book this spring, Cosmic Underground: A Grimoire of Black Speculative Discontent (Cedar Grove Publishing).

There are other international formations that are also engaged in this work, such as The Afrofuturist Affair in Philadelphia, BlackSpace in Durham North Carolina, Wildseeds in New Orleans, Chale Wote in Accra Ghana, and Afro-futures UK in Great Britain. The movement or the term Black Speculative Arts serves as an umbrella for different points of engagement that sometimes overlap, like Magical Realism, Black Science Fiction, Afrofuturism, Sword and Soul or Fantasy, SteamFunk, Afro-Surrealism, Ethno-gothic, and others. I would argue the Black Speculative tradition is the spiritual mother of Afrofuturism with its roots in nineteenth-century discourses around anti-slavery revolutionary practices, science, and early pan-Africanist sentiment.

 

Right now the film Black Panther has helped make Afrofuturism a public trend or topic of conversation.  What are your thoughts about the sudden Hollywood-sized publicity of something that many have been taking quite seriously for years?

I am happy it has made people more curious about the term Afrofuturism. I believe there is a paradigm shift going on among Black folks globally. The movie is impacting the young and the old. The last time I recall this much discussion about a cinematic event was the production of Alex Haley’s Roots in the ’70s. Yet this film is different than Roots in many ways. For example, Black Panther opened in the entire African world in 72 hours its first week, and the response has been dramatic on several sociological, psychological, and aesthetic levels. I have been intrigued by the response along linguistic lines. Afro-Brazilians have been heavily impacted by the film. I have seen some critics from the French cultural zone, although they should be slow to criticize anybody after the production of the Le Flop of a movie that Valerian turned out to be.

 

Tell us more about the significance of Black Panther to historical Black radical politics?  For example, is there an actual relationship between, say, the artist Jack Kirby who created the character and THE Black Panthers?

I think people should go back to the origin of the Black Panther Party in Alabama. In 1965 the Lowndes County Freedom Organization was founded. This organization adopted the Black Panther as its symbol. Huey P. Newton adopted the symbol from them. The Black Panther Party of Lowndes County Alabama believed in Armed Self-Defense in the tradition of Robert F. Williams. This predates both the 1966 founding of the Oakland Black Party by Huey Newton and Bobby Seal, and the launching of the comic series Black Panther in 1966. It should be noted that the Lowndes County Freedom Organization was started by the SNCC (Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee) as it was moving towards Black Power ideology. Thus, you cannot separate the symbol Black Panther from the Black Liberation Struggle. That is what the symbol stood for before there was a comic series and that is why the symbol was adopted by Blacks fighting for the right to vote in the south to Blacks in Oakland who were also suffering from racist oppression.

As far as relationships go, Jack Kirby and the artist Billy Graham were creating this character during a transitional time in America and the world system, in an environment of the Black Power movement, the Black Arts Movement, the African liberation struggle, and during the time of Black Jazz creatives, like Sun Ra during his New York period. Jack Kirby and Billy Graham were not operating in a cultural vacuum when these events were going on, and it probably impacted their creative expression.

 

A good deal of the response to the film in the Black world has been framed around tensions in the Black Diaspora, such as the representation of Africa, the role of “real” Africans vs. African-American fantasies, the tension and/or limits of, say, Black Nationalism and pan-Africanism. From your 2.0 perspective, from a perspective rooted in Astro-Blackness, how do you frame or respond to such tensions and debates?

First of all, I am African-American and I don’t have fantasies about Africa. I have been dealing in the reality of Africa and the African Diaspora for some years now. Yes, you have some misinformed African-Americans and others in the Diaspora, and there are some misinformed Africans on the Continent. Second, after traveling around the world for much of the last decade lecturing on Black Futurity, I have reached the conclusion that the African diaspora and Black Africa have no friends. But, we do have interests that have to be attended to. So, time out for silly talk.

We must remember that this misinformed state on both sides of the Atlantic is due to an educational. historical, political-economic design of the White Atlantic and their allies who, in too many cases, instilled in Africans of the Diaspora a slave mentality and in continental Africans a colonized mentality. Leaders such as Kwame Nkrumah, W.E.B. Dubois, Marcus and Amy Jacques Garvey, Patrice Lumumba, and Claudia Jones have been working hard for generations to help Black people all over the world to overcome the psychological hindering and underdevelopment that was done to Black people by White Supremacy and the White Atlantic. No one has a problem with people of Jewish ancestry around the world supporting the country of Israel wherever they live.

Furthermore, NATO is a military organization that represents the political-economic strategic interests of the White Atlantic. There is a Nordic council founded in 1952 for societies in that region. There are Arab and Asian formations with international goals and aspirations. Therefore, it is logical for people of Black African descent to be interested in developing organizations and entities that focus on their international goals and aspirations. So, I would say the 2.0 development of Afrofuturism and Astro-Blackness, is analogous to the earlier development of pan-Africanism (an idea that started in the diaspora) that would later be adopted by the African continent when they established the O.A.U and later the African Union, which, by the way, formally recognized its diaspora as a sixth zone of the union. In the near future, the hope is that Afrofuturism 3.0 (or some other name) will emerge as African Union members or organizations refashion it for their own sensibilities, tastes, and strategic goals.

Finally, a more interesting exchange would be what can we learn from each other? For example, what can the African Diaspora learn from people like Wangari Maathai on environmental sustainability? Or, more importantly, what is the continent doing to defend itself? At the time of this writing there is no sub-Saharan African country with a military ranked in the top 40 in the world. In a multi-polar world, the strong prey on the weak and it’s shaping up to be a scenario similar to those of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries where Black/African societies are impacted by Arab-centric jihadist elements from the north throughout the Maghreb region, Asian Tiger societies from the east (China is building a base in Africa), and the Western White Atlantic entities.

In closing, I would say people that entertain such arguments need to think bigger.

 

What do you think people are getting wrong about the film or about Afrofuturism as represented in the film?

It is too early to tell. Right now, people are generally critiquing from their own space of the chess board, and some people have problems with depth perception. Whether it’s through the analytical framework of Black feminism, Black Nationalist, Afro-pessimism, Afropolitan discourse, and so on, I would argue that people are generally trying to reposition themselves to be in the debate on Black futurity. They are reflexively doing what they have already been doing from their various traditions or practices, but some have been caught unprepared. At the end of the day, the Disney Company made a shrewd business decision and developed a new global market for Black super heroes. However, the film unexpectedly tapped into a global Black reservoir of desire and agency that is long standing and built and autonomously maintained in the cultural software of Africa and its diaspora.

So in light of your answer, say something about the place of the “Afro” in Afrofuturism and its relationship to “futurity.”

I would argue that “Afro” implies an orientation to the data or phenomena on Black futures. A few years ago, at an Astro-Blackness meeting at Loyola Marymount University, I said if there is no Africa in your Afrofuturism then you are not doing Afrofuturism, you are doing somebody else’s. This position makes it necessary to have an intellectual relationship or understanding with the Africana Studies tradition in the area of Afrocentricity and other formations.

Most impressive about your work is the insistence on making a movement rooted in imaginative expression speak to extant political movements in the Black world. What do you hope Black Panther can achieve in this context, or is it secondary to what’s already been going on?

Black Panther is amplifying a global dialogue about Black futurity that has primarily been the province of a small group of creatives, intellectuals, and academics for about two decades. As the masses are slowly being awakened to its existence, there will be mutations of the Afrofuturism project based upon marketing, locale, linguistic differences, and geopolitics.

 

The following is a syllabus/research guide on Afrofuturism and Black Speculative Arts and Criticism from Dr. Anderson.

 

Afrofuturism 2.0 syllabus

This course is designed to help students refine their theoretical approaches to the study of second wave Afrofuturism and the Black Speculative tradition, and to help sharpen and broaden their critical thinking and analytical faculties through a study of selected works. This course prepares students for the questions raised by the scholar Kodwo Eshun when he notes the need to study the conceptual framework of our cultural moment: What are the parameters of that moment, the edge of that framework? We will be examining more than just the works and their authors, but also the social, ethical, spiritual, political, and philosophical bases upon which the emerging field is being built.

 

Module 1: What is Afrofuturism?

Pfeiffer, J. (1975). Black American Speculative literature: A checklist. Extrapolation, 17(1), 35-43.

Sinker, Mark. (1992). Loving the Alien: Black Science Fiction. The Wire 96: 30–33.

Dery, M. (1994). Black to the Future: Interviews with Samuel R. Delany, Greg Tate, and Tricia Rose. Flame wars: The discourse of cyberculture, 179-222.

Nelson, A. (2002). Afrofuturism: A special issue of social text. (Introduction)

Eshun, K. (2003). Further considerations of Afrofuturism. CR: The New Centennial Review, 3(2), 287-302.

Elia, A. (2014). The Languages of Afrofuturism. Lingue e Linguaggi, 12, 83-96.

Anderson, R. Jones, C. (2015). Introduction: Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness. Lexington Books.

Anderson, R. (2016). Afrofuturism 2.0 & The Black Speculative Arts Movement: Notes on a Manifesto. Obsidian, 42(1/2), 228.

 

Module 2: Metaphysics

Fisher, M. (2013). The metaphysics of crackle: Afrofuturism and hauntology. Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture, 5(2), 42-55.

Van Veen, T. C. (2013). VESSELS OF TRANSFER: Allegories of Afrofuturism in Jeff Mills and Janelle Monáe. Dancecult: Journal of electronic dance music culture, 5(2).

Rollins, A. (2015). Afrofuturism and Our Old Ship of Zion: The Black Church in Post-Modernity. In Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 127.

Gaskins, N. R. (2016). The African Cosmogram Matrix in Contemporary Art and Culture. black theology, 14(1), 28-42.

Steinskog, E. (2018). Vibrations, Rhythm, and Cosmology. In Afrofuturism and Black Sound Studies (pp. 109-138). Palgrave Macmillan, Cham.

 

Module 3: Aesthetics

David, M. (2007). Afrofuturism and post-soul possibility in Black popular music. African American Review, 41(4), 695-707.

Josephs, K. B. (2013). Beyond Geography, Past Time: Afrofuturism, The Rainmaker’s Mistake, and Caribbean Studies. Small Axe: A Caribbean Journal of Criticism, 17(2 (41)), 123-135.

Rambsy II, H. (2013). Beyond Keeping It Real: OutKast, the Funk Connection, and Afrofuturism. American Studies, 52(4), 205-216.

Anderson, R., & Jennings, J. (2014). Afrofuturism: The Digital Turn and the Visual Art of Kanye West. In The Cultural Impact of Kanye West (pp. 29-44). Palgrave Macmillan, New York.

Barber, T. (2015. Cyborg Grammar? Reading Wangechi Mutu’s Non je ne regrette rien through Kindred. Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 3-25.

Nyawalo, M. (2016). Afro-futurism and the aesthetics of hope in Bekolo’s Les Saignantes and Kahiu’s Pumzi. Journal of the African Literature Association, 10(2), 209-221.

 

Module 4: Race & Theoretical and Applied Science

Eglash, R. (2002). Race, sex, and nerds: From black geeks to Asian American hipsters. Social Text, 20(2), 49-64.

Rusert, B. (2013). Delany’s Comet: Fugitive Science and the Speculative Imaginary of Emancipation. American Quarterly, 65(4), 799-829.

Gaskin, N. (2015). Afrofuturism on Web 3.0: Vernacular Cartography and Augmented Space. In Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 27-44.

Brooks, L. A. (2015). Playing a Minority Forecaster in Search of Afrofuturism: Where am I in this future Steward Brand?.  Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 149.

Callus, P., & Potter, C. (2017). Michezo Video: Nairobi’s gamers and the developers who are promoting local content. Critical African Studies, 9(3), 302-326.

Luba, A. R. (2017). The Change Game: A Critical Game For Recognizing & Generating Alternative Futures.

Brooks, L. J. A., & Anderson, R. Student Visions of Multiple Urban Futures 2050. Envisioning futures for environmental and sustainability education, 385.

 

Module 5: Social Sciences and futurity

Yaszek, L. (2006). Afrofuturism, science fiction, and the history of the future. Socialism and Democracy, 20(3), 41-60.

DeIuliis, D., & Lohr, J. (2015). Rewriting the Narrative. Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 167-84.

Guthrie, R. (2015). The Real Ghosts in the Machine: Afrofuturism and the Haunting of Racial Space in I, Robot and DETROPIA. In Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness. 45-60.

Elia, A. (2016). WEB Du Bois’s Proto-Afrofuturist Short Fiction: The Comet. Il Tolomeo, 18, 173-86.

 

Moduel 6: Critical theory and Method

Tal, K. (1996). The unbearable Whiteness of being: African American critical theory and cyberculture. Kali Tal Web site.

Mayer, R. (2000). “Africa As an Alien Future”: The Middle Passage, Afrofuturism, and Postcolonial Waterworlds. Amerikastudien/American Studies, 555-566.

Michael Tillotson and Serie McDougal (2013) Applied Africana Studies Journal of Black Studies Vol. 44, No. 1 pp. 101-113

Sunstrum, P.(2013). “Afro-mythology and African Futurism: The Politics of Imagining and Methodologies for Contemporary Creative Research Practices.” In Africa SF. Ed. Mark Bould. Paradoxa, no. 25: 113-29.

Ford, J. (2013). Cultivating citizenship as feeling: a conversation with three digital alchemists jillian ford, in conversation with L’Erin Alta-Devki, Moya Bailey, and Alexis Pauline Gumbs. Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, 29(2).

Phillips, R. (2015). Black Quantum Futurism: Theory and Practice- Part One. In Black Quantum Futurism Theory& Practice, 11-30.

Whitted, Q. (2015). “To be African is to Merge Technology and Magic”: An Interview with Nnedi Okorafor. In Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise Of Astro-Blackness, 207-213.

Anderson, R. (2015). Critical Afrofuturism: A case study in visual, rhetoric, sequential art, and post-apocalyptic Black identity. In Blacker the ink: Constructions of Black identity in comics and sequential art, 171-192.

 

Module 7: Criticisms that overlap Time and Space

Reichardt, U. (2000). Time and the African-American experience: The problem of chronocentrism. Amerikastudien/American Studies, 45(4), 465-484.

Okembe-Ra. N. (2015). The Implications of Africa-Centered Conceptions of Time & Space for Quantitative Theorizing: Limitations for paradigmatically-Bound Philosophical Meta-Assumptions. In Black Quantum Futurism Theory & Practice, 31-48.

Van Veen, t. (2015).  The Armageddon Effect: Afrofuturism and the Chronopolitics of Alien Nation. In Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 63-90.

Chude-Sokei, L. (2016). “A Caribbean Pre-Posthumanism.” In The Sound of Culture: Diaspora and Black Technopoetics, 179-224.

Brooks, K. D., McGee, A., & Schoellman, S. (2016). Speculative Sankofarration: Haunting Black Women in Contemporary Horror Fiction. Obsidian, 42(1/2), 237.

 

Module 8: In conversation other cultural explorations of Futurity

Ramírez, C. S. (2008). Afrofuturism/Chicanafuturism: Fictive Kin. Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies, 33(1), 185-194.

McLeod, K. (2013). Afro-Samurai: techno-Orientalism and contemporary hip hop. Popular Music, 32(2), 259-275.

Ritskes, E. (2017). Beyond and Against White Settler Colonialism in Palestine: Fugitive Futurities in Amir Nizar Zuabi’s “The Underground Ghetto City of Gaza”. Cultural Studies↔ Critical Methodologies, 17(1), 78-86.

 

Module 9: Black Women and futurity

Morris, S. M. (2013). Black Girls Are from the Future: Afrofuturist Feminism in Octavia E. Butler’s Fledgling. WSQ: Women’s Studies Quarterly, 40(3), 146-166.

Jones, E. (2015). Africana Women’s Science fiction and Narrative Medicine: Difference, Ethics, and Empathy.

TURMAN, A. (2015) An Afrofuturist Africana Womanist Affair. (Book Review)

Afrofuturism’s Musical Princess Janelle Monae: Psychedelic Sould Message Infused with a Sci-Fi Twist. In Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness, 91-107

Morris, S. M. (2016). More than Human: Black Feminisms of the Future in Jewelle Gomez’s The Gilda Stories. The Black Scholar, 46(2), 33-45.

 

Module 10: Black LGBTQ futurity

Muñoz, J. E. (2007). Cruising the toilet: LeRoi Jones/Amiri Baraka, radical black traditions, and queer futurity. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 13(2), 353-367.

Fawaz, R. (2012). Space, that Bottomless Pit: Planetary Exile and Metaphors of Belonging in American Afrofuturist Cinema. Callaloo, 35(4), 1103-1122.

Griffiths, T. M. (2015). Queer. Black Politics, Queer. Black Communities: Touching the Utopian Frame in Delany’s Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders. African American Review, 48(3), 305-317.

Jaime, K. (2017). “Chasing Rainbows” Black Cracker and Queer, Trans Afrofuturity. Transgender Studies Quarterly, 4(2), 208-218.

 

Module 11: Programmatic Spaces (Case Studies)

The AfroFuturist Affair – is a Philadelphia based grassroots community formed to celebrate, strengthen, and promote Afrofuturistic and Sci-Fi concepts and culture through creative events and creative writing.

BlackSpace- BlackSpace provides free Pan-African centered social entrepreneurship and digital media resources for local youth in Durham North Carolina.

The Center for Afrofuturist Studies – (CAS) is an initiative in Iowa City, Iowa to re-imagine new futures for marginalized peoples by generating safe work spaces for artists of color. The CAS hosts visiting artists and artists-in-residence and produces lectures, workshops, public forums, and exhibitions on the intersections of race, technology, and the diaspora.

Blacks to The Future- Located in Paris, France the collective focuses on collective experimentation through their transmedia platform with the belief that Africanity and Afrofuturism embody a humanistic perspective that all people can embrace.

Afrofutures_UK- Located in England is a connective made up of artists, writers, activists and academics interested in exploring the future black experience through multi-media and disruptive technologies.

Wildseeds- Wildseeds is a collective of feminists of color that uses speculative fiction as a resource for social change. Our work, steeped in Black feminist traditions of survival and healing, engages Octavia Butler and other speculative/sci-fi and fantastical authors.

Black Speculative Arts Movement- aka BSAM and BSAM-CANADA, is a yearlong, traveling Afrofuturism, comics, film, and art convention held at multiple universities, colleges, and venues in the United States and Canada.

 

Academic text book resources:

Afrofuturism 2.0: The Rise of Astro-Blackness edited by Reynaldo Anderson and Charles Jones

Afrofuturism and Black Sound Studies: Culture, Technology, and Things to Come by Erik Steinskog

Black Quantum Futurism: Theory & Practice (Volume 1) by Rasheedah Phillips

Afrofuturism: The World of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Culture by Ytasha Womack

The Black Imagination: Science Fiction, Futurism and the Speculative (Black Studies and Critical Thinking) by Sandra Jackson and Julie E. Moody-Freeman

More Brilliant Than the Sun: Adventures in Sonic Fiction by Kodwo Eshun

 

Journals:

Afrofuturism: A Special Issue of Social Text by Alondra Nelson

Speculating Futures: Black Imagination & The Arts: Obsidian: Literature & Arts in the African Diaspora edited by Sheree Renee Thomas, Nisi Shawl, Isiah Lavender III, Krista Franklin

Special Issue on Afrofuturism: Vol 5, No 2 (2013): Dancecult: Journal of Electronic Dance Music Culture. Edited by Tobias C. Van Veen

 

Literary Supplements:

Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora by Sheree Renée Thomas

Mothership: Tales from Afrofuturism and Beyond by Bill Campbell and Edward Austin Hall

Octavia’s Brood: Science Fiction Stories from Social Justice Movements by Walidah Imarisha and adrienne maree brown

Black Kirby: In Search of The MotherBoxx Connection art exhibition catalog By John Jennings and Jonathan Gayles

Cosmic Underground: A Grimoire of Black Speculative Discontent by Reynaldo Anderson and John Jennings

AfroSF: Science Fiction by African Writers by Ivor W. Hartmann

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

Futureland by Walter Mosely

Midnight Robber Nalo Hopkinson

Nova by Samuel Delaney

 

Black Studies Supplements:

The Demise of the Inhuman: Afrocentricity, Modernism and Postmodernism by Ana Monteiro-Ferreira

The Afrocentric Idea by Molefi Asanti

The Africa centered perspective of history and social sciences in the twenty-first century by C.T. Keto

Yurugu: An African-centered critique of European cultural thought and behavior. By Marimba Ani

The Souls of Black Folk. By W.E.B. Dubois

“There are new metaphors, there are new sounds, there are new relations.”

In 1973, TBS interviewed James Baldwin. Through the month of September, we’re opening up our archives and giving readers the opportunity to download and read this incredible, relevant piece of history. Follow this link and click on the green PDF button to access free of charge.