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When people ask me what I do, I tell them that I study how we use stories to make sense of our real lives. This week, I’m living that. For me, this week’s story diet was about anger and oppression. Strangely, it has left me feeling good… feeling like I’ve learned something important.
Tonight, I was at Duke University, watching the film Black Panther with a group of talented teenagers taking part in a special program called LEAD (Leadership, Education and Development). These are bright kids who gave my research team some of their time to help us understand what the film Black Panther meant to them.
For me, it was the second time watching the film. The first time, I loved it and knew it was important. The thing that filled me with mixed emotions was the Erik Killmonger character. Like many fine films, the viewer’s understanding grows with each viewing. Tonight was no exception.
The first time, I felt overpowered by the danger Erik represented—by his choice to be consumed by hate; to show no mercy. Tonight, my psyche was more open to his story. I understood him as almost the personification of anger. His is a complex anger, coming from an intricate array of difficult experiences. He’s been left behind. Betrayed. Mistreated. Denied love that he deserved. He is drowning in hatred, suffocating on the lure of vengeance.
As difficult as it is to watch him try to destroy good people, I get it. He is anger. He is hate. He is in all of us when we feel rejected, abandoned, oppressed, and unloved. He is part of our history and of our present.
Just as Erik is in all of us, the other characters are as well. We are part T'Challa (the hero/the wise ruler), part Okoye (the general), part Nakia (the activist/the empath), and so on. The fact that we can readily empathize with most, if not all, of the major characters is undoubtedly part of why this movie is drawing the kind of audiences that it is.
The plight of the character Erik Killmonger reminded me of another person’s story; one that I saw earlier this week. I had turned on Netflix and found a prominent link to Hannah Gadsby: Nannette. This Netflix original was described like this: “She’s serious about leaving comedy, but first she’s taking aim at toxic culture and the concept of self-deprecating humor.”
Hannah, who is from rural Australia, describes growing up as a lesbian as gut-wrenchingly shaming. I had not seen her comedy before this, but according to this show, she had spent 10 years doing self-deprecating comedy routines. She decided that self-deprecation was self harm and harm to her community. In this event, she announced that she is quitting comedy. Hannah’s show pulls no punches. It is hard to watch at times. Her frank talk includes an absolute tirade of anger for the injustices that she and others have endured simply because they are different.
Now I am going to say something that will probably seem idiotic, but it actually has the potential to be very important, so I’ll risk the embarrassment. Most of us are socialized to be nice; to be kind; not to make waves. It comes from a good place. Our parents want us to spread love, not hate. But, here’s the problem with that. When we are afraid of anger, we tend to swallow the violence unleashed on the oppressed. We don’t want to make a fuss, so we hold back.
Erik and Hannah are our wake up calls. You see, even if unleashing anger is uncomfortable, it is so necessary to come to terms with it. I’m not advocating going on a murderous rampage like Erik did. I am not advocating treating the oppressor as he has treated the vulnerable. But something in both of these stories slapped me in the face and made me wake up and realize that our own tendency to smooth things over makes us vulnerable. We do need to open up to the absolute rage that’s in us all. We should be enraged by the way we and others have been mistreated. We’ve all seen the evidence of it in this current state of world affairs.
I’m not advocating violence as the solution. I’m advocating honesty, including the honest feeling and healthy expression of emotion. Let’s be honest about the anger. And, most importantly, let’s be honest about our own capacity to forgive and to love.
That’s what a Marvel hero and an Australian comedian taught me this week.
We bring who we are to the stories of our culture. If we invest in them, we can grow. What stories will you invest in this week?
Special thanks to Dr. Larry Drake, CEO of Leadership, Education and Development and Dr. Orlando Taylor of the Marie Fielder Center for Democracy, Leadership and Education for supporting this research and writing.
