3. Klaw is a representation of white supremacy.
The Black Panther film doesn't provide much of Ulysses Klaw's backstory, but he is the son of Nazi war criminal Colonel Fritz Klaue, a member of the Blitzkrieg Squad led by Baron Strucker, one of the leaders of Hydra. Klaue was sent to Wakanda by Adolf Hitler in order to learn the African nation's secrets. After the war ended, he "anglicized his name to Klaw and raised his son [Ulyssses] with tales of Wakanda" [source]. After coming of age, Ulysses becomes an arms dealer in South Africa and travels to Wakanda where he forces (enslaves) Wakandans to mine Vibranium. Thus, Klaw (literally) represents the legacy of the Nazis and therefore also of white colonialism and white supremacy. As such, his primary motivation is greed. He has no interest in Wakandan culture or its people. He wants only to extract its valuable resource, Vibranium, and is willing to kill anyone in his way, including the Wakandan king, T'Chaka. Klaw seems to die in this film, but white supremacy has proven to be remarkably resilient. We will see Klaw again, probably soon.
4. CIA agent, Everett K. Ross as a representation of the every(white)man.
If Klaw is the representation of white supremacy, then Ross is the comforting antithesis. He not only likes and respects T'Chaka's son, T'Challa (the Black Panther) but essentially earns his "pass" by stepping in front of a bullet to save one of T'Challa's guards. Though in many ways Ross essentially functions as a reverse "magic negro"[1] -- a character whose sole purpose seems to be to promote the well-being of the lead (in this case, Black) characters -- he is also an avatar, an audience surrogate who represents the way Panther is perceived by well-meaning white men (and women). In the words of Ross's creator, Christopher Priest, "Comics are traditionally created by white males for white males. I figured, and I believe rightly, that for Black Panther to succeed, it needed a white male at the center, and that white male had to give voice to the audience's misgivings or apprehensions or assumptions about this character." [source]
Importantly, the anti-racist while ideal cannot remain skeptical toward blackness. To the contrary, he/she must (relatively soon) embrace the racial other and, at least in their own fantasies, become their allies and friends. Thus, despite having no special powers or even understanding of Wakandan culture and traditions, by shooting down the ships leaving Wakanda at Killmonger's orders, Ross winds up playing a vital role in not only assisting T'Challa but in preserving Wakandan traditions.
5. Erik Killmonger represents...
The racial symbolism of Killmonger is, for me, one of the more unsatisfying aspects of this film. It is tempting to think of Killmonger as a representation of his people, the African American counterpart to T'Challa's African identity. Indeed, the smart viewer will nod along when he challenges T'Challa's claim that he has no responsibility to help black Americans: "Not your own?" he asks, "Did life start on this continent? Aren't all people your people?"
Unfortunately, Killmonger is too filled with anger to respond affirmatively to his own question. He is justifiably
angry at his own people's oppression, but he has internalized the
notion that one has to be either the conqueror or the conquered. He
wants to free his people, but he seems willing to have other people (the
oppressors) suffer in turn. It is not so much justice and freedom that
Killmonger wants as the power to dominate others. This is not an
uncommon phenomenon. There are studies (e.g., Nansel, Overpeck, Haynie,
Ruam, & Scheidt, 2003) that show that those who are bullied are
often more willing to carry weapons and perpetrate violence against
others. Certainly, there are African Americans who hold such beliefs,
but Killmonger is essentially the only representation of African
Americans in the film. As such, the film could be read as an indictment
not just of this particular point of view but of African American men
more broadly. For those who already tend to blame racial inequality on
so-called "black on black" violence, it is not much of a stretch to find
that view vindicated in the film.
This is certainly not what
the filmmakers intended and I hope not what most viewers come away with.
The film is an indictment of Killmonger and his philosophy, but is
sympathetic toward his (and his people's) suffering. We don't want
Killmonger to unleash the power of Vibranium on an unsuspecting world,
but we recognize the need to end oppression and racialized poverty. When
Killmonger dies at the end of the film, there is, for many, little
pleasure at his death. He needed to die because the philosophy of
racialized vengeance has to die, but we nevertheless see him
(rightfully) as a victim of unfortunate circumstances he could not
control and we can understand and even relate to his anger, even as we
reject his vision for how to make things better. As Nate Marshall so aptly pointed out,
one of this film's many strengths is that it "fundamentally questions
the nature of power, freedom and responsibility." I agree. I have no
objection to the Killmonger character. I just wish he wasn't the only
significant African American character in the film. Here, as everywhere,
there are the dangers of a single story.
6. Wakanda has problems. There are lots of Wakanda fans out there and for good reason. With Wakanda, we all bear witness to an African country characterized not only by its natural beauty but by its natural resources and highly developed technologies. It is meaningful, as well, that Wakandan women seem to be valued for their strength and assertiveness, rather than repressed or punished. Certainly, T'Challa is a worthy leader surrounded by capable and talented warriors and advisors. There's much to like.
At the same time, the Wakanda we see in the first Black Panther film has its problems. For a supposed advanced nation, the Wakandas seem unusually highly invested in military technology and have opted to retain not only a family monarchy but a ritual fight that could (and does) result in an unpredictable and dangerous transfer of power.
It is problematic as well that Wakanda is so completely ethnically homogeneous that one must literally have a brand to gain entry. To be sure, deciding that Wakanda needs to become less insular is part of T'Challa's transformation, but the "old" Wakanda -- the one we see throughout most of the film, seems rather invested in its own ethnic purity. Imagine a homogeneously white nation-state that brands its citizens and restricts entry only to its own people. It is an inaccurate and therefore unfair comparison[2], but it still feels off, especially since one Wakandan tribe seems to live in relative isolation with little access to Wakanda's considerable resources and technology.
Moreover, it appears that the king's power is absolute. There is no (visible) democratic process, no checks and balances, no protections for Wakandan citizens. With T'Challa on the throne, there is no need for concern, but strong societies are structured so that they can survive individual failings and difficult transitions. It is not at all clear that Wakanda can. Perhaps T'Challa will set all things right (there are benefits to absolute power). In the meantime, like the rest of the world, Wakanda has its share of domestic challenges too.
Endnotes:
[1] Spike Lee and others have appropriately criticized certain films for their use of "the magical negro", a black character (often with mystical powers or unusual wisdom) whose sole purpose seems to be to support the film's white protagonists. Though seemingly positively depicted, the one-dimensional nature of these characters strips them of their humanity. They exist only as a prop to support the growth or ambition of whiteness. There are no "magical negroes" in Black Panther, but Ross has many similar characteristics as the film's only non-villainous white character in an Afrocentric story. He's moral, kind, courageous, and selfless -- a good (white) man, if ever there was one, but either despite my whiteness or because of it, I found it difficult to relate to him. Perhaps this speaks to my discomfort with my own racial politics and reluctance to identify with the "white ally" ideal or perhaps there is something just a bit off about a character whose only reason for being is to serve as a white conduit to a black story.
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