A Love Letter to Black African Cinema | poem

smile, if you please.

Illustration By Ritchelly Oliveira.

Oh, let me see my face on the big screen.
Let me have my sisters celebrated for the art that they are,
let my brothers be praised for the beauty they exude.

These are the dreams of my grandfathers,
these are the works of my grandmothers—
and not for popularity,
and not for the validation of other countries—
but that all over the world,
the children of Africa can shine in the art we love
and not be told we are not wanted
and so should not be celebrated.

I don’t need it to be in English.
I don’t need it to be in French.
Let’s make for ourselves.
In our own language.
If they don’t understand, they will learn.

After all, we did, didn’t we?
We don’t need anyone else to tell us we are special.

How beautiful my tribe is—
our land, our corals, and our rivers.
And yet, I barely know her history.
Still, I am vast with the knowledge of the things that shouldn’t concern me,
knowing world history
but my world is not included—why?

When they show us on screen, they ridicule our way of life,
They disrespect our tradition and in turn, our ancestors.
Our beliefs have become a spectacle.
Our history, now research used against us.
Legends now turn to myths.
They lie, but this will not go on for long.

Black child of Africa, who told you you weren’t worthy of the screen?
Who told you your curls had to be defined to be seen as ethereal?
With skin like the night, you are truly a wonder.
You have always, always been great, my love.
You are not a token. Not a spectacle.
You are the promise made to the world a long time ago.
You are the gift that keeps on giving.

So go to the camera and smile, if you please.
Dance, sing, act, and perform; if you wish to.
Cinema was made for me as it was for you.
They don’t need to understand it— but so help me God,
they will respect it.

And you will shine,
and all the colors of your heart will hug the world—
because we need to hug the world.
Earth is bleeding, and so we should tell the truth on screen.

Cinema is for revelation.
Cinema is for history.
Cinema is for growth.
Cinema is for love.
Cinema is my love.

She’s my mother. She raised me. She scolded me.
She molded me into the person I dream of becoming.

Cinema is all colors.
And cinema is Black.
Cinema is for you, me, and all.
Cinema is for the world.

And we must hug the world.
We must write.
We must sing.
We must dance.
We must live, we must love.

And we must record it all—
so that our children can know who they are,
and decide for themselves who they could be.

So that you can be free.
So that I can live and believe
that there must be more.

We have to be more because we already are.

And so—
Black child, stand in front of that lens and smile, if you please.
You are more than worthy of the screen.

And when they show it, they better get it right.

Nothing can capture all your essence perfectly—
but so help me God, they better get it right.