Journal 10-
Understanding Killmonger.
“The greatest superhero films tend to be defined by their villain, not their hero”
The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success, but this was not the case with Killmonger. Wakanda isn’t exactly a utopia. It’s a fictional nation whose politics are fractured and fascinating. In Black Panther, the isolationist city-state lies cloaked and hidden deep within central Africa. Most paint Killmonger as a villain, but I can personally understand where his anger comes from. Maybe not to his extent.
It started off like any other Saturday. Lunch being prepared a little earlier than usual because my dad had work at 3 p.m. Everyone eating together at the dining table at 1:30. Afterward, my father would take a shower and get dressed for work. Right before he had put his shoes on my mom noticed how tired he looked. His eyes bright red and the bags under them looking heavier than usual. None of us seemed to think it was severe, but she insisted on him not going to work, My dad- being the prideful person he is- went anyways.
It was around 8 p.m that same day when he called barely able to get the words out his mouth telling us he was going to come home early. This raised concern to all of us, but again none of us thought of this to be something serious. It wasn’t until two hours later when we all came to my father’s aid as he couldn’t even walk up seven steps into the house. Gasping for air and unable to say a single word my sister rushes to the house phone and dials 311. Trying to hold back her tears as she explains the situation I look around in confusion. What is going on?? What do I do?? How do I help?? Thousands of thoughts rushing through my mind, but all of them interrupted as the paramedics come sprinting through the door. A young blonde woman is asking multiple questions to which my father can give no reply. Just barely able to get out the word water in a struggle my sister hurries to the kitchen bringing back a small glass of cold water. Once the paramedic saw the glass of water she forcibly and angrily pushes the glass out the way. It wasn’t until after that we learned that if he had drunk that glass of water, he would have died at that moment.
Days continuously go by, and I have yet to visit my father at the hospital. Partly due to the numerous amount of people coming in and out of my house. Partly because I was afraid the moment I would see my dad helplessly on the bed with a bunch of tubes tied to him that this horrific dream I was having would become a reality, and I wouldn’t be able to run away anymore. But, it wasn’t about me anymore. I needed to be strong for everyone else around me. Adding another crying face wouldn’t help the situation no matter how badly I wanted to let my tears go, I had to hold them in. Entering the room I had already imagined the worst, but the moment I had laid my eyes on his powerless body on the hospital bed, it was unbearable. I was in shock, completely frozen. It was as if I wasn’t even looking at my father anymore, but rather a bunch of machines. My uncle was there telling me to say something, but as hard as I would try nothing would come out.
Several months of my dad fighting and many, many prayers he was on the road to recovery. With a couple of surgeries, he was able to have a machine in him that would pump his heart for him. Although it wasn’t the ideal situation, we all seemed happy with the outcome. Things were returning to how it was before. I would come back from school with my dad on his sofa watching the world news, mother in the kitchen, and a baby nephew playing on the floor smiling at my father. It was an image I had become very accustomed to and engraved in my head. Eventually, we receive a phone call from the hospital saying they found a new heart for my father. We rush down there, and they immediately change him to the appropriate outfit. As they roll him out the changing room and into the operation room, we were all giving our best wishes. What we didn’t know was that those would be the last words he’ll ever hear from us again.
Apparently, during the heart transplant, he had caught a stroke. They weren’t able to catch it which lead to him being brain dead. They had told us that they would continue to do whatever they could to try and help him recover. Everyone knew what that meant, besides me. I had continued to think everything would be okay. Death is only supposed to happen in TV shows and movies. It wasn’t supposed to happen to a 14-year-old kid who doesn’t know life without a father. I no longer had anyone to argue against my mom when she told me I couldn’t go outside to play. I no longer could go to him when I’m feeling alone and afraid.
At that moment all I could do was walk away into the bathroom. I couldn’t hold the tears any longer, but I couldn’t let anyone see me being weak. When I was in public, I carried myself with a smile so that everyone around me would know I was okay. But deep down I wasn’t. Alone I would have flashbacks of old memories such as watching TV together eating sandwiches. Wrestling with him and always losing just to have another go at it. As I recall all these memories, I have tears trickling down my cheek.When I would come back home from school, I would still have that one image in my head, to then always be disappointed when there was a missing one piece which could never be replaced. School now became something just to do. No longer any reason or purpose behind the school. Everything felt like a letdown. Grades were now meaningless to me,and education was no longer a priority in my eyes for so long.
Days, weeks, months, and even years go by before I could even catch myself. I was using my anger and frustration for all the wrong reasons. I couldn’t just sit and pout any longer. In order for me to get over this obstacle, I had to change how I think. I needed to not look at my father’s death as an excuse but rather motivation. For the man who spent his life for me, I couldn’t waste all his hard work by being hurt. Obstacles, setbacks, and failure are not to be looked at a moment of sadness. They should be looked at as a moment of experience. These moments are what will set you apart from everyone else. Going through this difficult time made me mentally stronger. Because of it, I’m ready for any and everything that will be thrown at me. Nothing could break me down. If I was able to turn the most devastating moment of my life into fuel, then nothing I face in the future can break me.
Not everyone can handle death, especially in Killmonger’s case. His father N’Jobu facilitated the theft of vibranium in an attempt to arm black people all over the world against their oppressors. Although he raised his son in Oakland, California, Killmonger’s father nevertheless promised the young boy that he would one day take him to Wakanda, claiming that the sunsets there were the most beautiful in the world. While being raised, N’Jadaka found his father’s book which featured many secrets from Wakanda, including N’Jobu’s own Wakandan Royal Ring and the way to enter the secret country. When N’Jadaka was very young, N’Jobu is killed by T’Challa’s father T’Chaka for his insubordinate attempt to end the centuries of isolation that have kept Wakanda safe. Unaware of his father’s death, Killmonger was playing basketball with his friends until he sees the Royal Talon Fighter above their apartment complex. He rushed inside, only to find his father lying dead on the floor with panther claws in his chest. T’Chaka abandons Killmonger in Oakland, California, ironically the birthplace of the Black Panther Party, leaving Killmonger literally and figuratively an orphan. Devastated over the death of the only family he had left, Killmonger had held his father’s body and cried, before recovering his father’s diary with his Royal Ring as well as everything Stevens ever needed to know about Wakanda. This was a tragic and a very evident turning point in Killmonger’s life. Killmonger is not even is real last name. His actual last name is Steven, but wss awarded that namein the Army where he was shown to be murderous. His whole life he was filled with rage by not only the injustice done to him, but to all African descendants. This is Pan-Africanism, a belief that no matter how seemingly distant black people’s lives and struggles are from each other, we are in a sense “cousins” who bear a responsibility to help one another escape oppression. Killmonger never forgot what T’ Chaka did to him. Essentially the director Ryan Coogler is asking the audience and readers, if an African superpower like Wakanda existed, with all its power, its monopoly on the invaluable sci-fi metal vibranium, and its advanced technology, how could it have remained silent, remained still, as millions of Africans were devoured by The Void? The Void being, the psychic and cultural wound caused by the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, the loss of life, culture, language, and history that could never be restored. From this standpoint, I agree with Killmonger simply because, it’s almost as if Wakanda was being selfish. As an African American, I feel like it is not my fault that my inheritance is lost. I remember when the movie first came out, I had a African friends say the Black Panther movie was for them and that “now black peole want to be from Africa” as if we had a choice to begin with. One of my favorite quotes by killmonger is when he says “Two billion people all over the world who look like us whose lives are much harder, and Wakanda has the tools to liberate them all,” Killmonger scolds the Wakandan court. “Where was Wakanda?” Killmonger sees in his lost homeland a chance to avenge the millions of black people extinguished.
