I have been to see Black Panther four times.

For a rational adult, this may seem ridiculous, but it is far from it. This film means so much to so many people for so many different reasons, but most of all, it has provided a chance for everyone to really sit down and reflect about the meaning of being black in the world and in America. It is because of this that I have taken two and a half hours out of my life four times to see this film.

I recognize that, unlike me, there are some people who have not seen the film yet, so as I did in my previous Black Panther inspired article, I am offering you a chance to Get Out now before I ruin something.

Okay?

Ready?

Good.

This film, as I stated before, talks about so many different issues that it is almost impossible to pin them all down upon the first viewing. There is the thread of loyalty I discussed in my last article, the concept of sustained innocence versus lost innocence, the concept of duty versus desire, the concept of isolationism versus internationalism, the concept of tradition versus innovation, the concept of nationalism versus patriotism— “Then you serve your country…No! I save my country” –and so much more. Every time I watch this film, I discover something else to explore.

Ultimately, we don’t get movies like this often, and people of color—especially in America—almost never get films that represent their lives in such an accurate manner. This film has managed to expose the complicated nature of the Black soul in the United States, and abroad, unflinchingly—yet the film has done so in a way that enables free interpretation. This is truly invaluable and, though I may risk sounding like a broken record, it’s something you just don’t see.

As I have sat in my classrooms exploring issues of inequality and society since my first viewing, it has been almost impossible for me not to connect what I am learning to the film in some way. This could be chalked up to a mild obsession with the film, but I say it’s more than that. For someone who is surrounded by symbols of black oppression everyday—Wake Forest is a wonderful institution, but the fact that it wasn’t built for people like me remains evident to this day—this film provides a sense of escape without allowing me to be ignorant to the issues I am educating myself to face. The fact that I can watch Black Panther and tie the film to my Social Movements class, my Activist Rhetoric class, my Women’s and Genders Studies class, my Race and the Courts class, and my Global Village course shows how grounded in reality this superhero film is. The fact that I can read a non-fiction book (The Tears We Cannot Stop by Dr. Michael Eric Dyson) and apply almost all of it to the film, shows that the topics it broaches are prevalent and important to modern society. All in all, this film is providing me, and others like me, with a muse. A muse from which we can draw academic, social, and political inspiration.

This film also means a hell of a lot for black people’s self-image. Whereas most other films with this may black people in it have portrayed us as villainous, unintelligent, in need of saving, poor, or downtrodden, this film seems to flip these normal movie tropes on their head. While the fact that economically and socially downtrodden black people need help is explored, it becomes increasingly clear with the introduction of Erik “Killmonger” Stevens that there are black people who do make it out of bad situations by themselves. His character also, however, shows that making it out physically does not always mean that the mind is freed from the shackles of oppression which chain people to ideas of bloody revolution.

Regardless of the political and social ideology pushed by the film and its characters, the fact remains that children all over the world now have a host of heroes to look to for inspiration in a world that screams that they don’t matter. This film has provided young black girls with not one, but dozens of examples of women who hold their own or completely outshine the men around them.

Okoye, Wakanda’s General and head protector of Wakanda’s protector, is as badass as they come and her strength is not found in the men in her life, but in herself. This is made obvious when she tells her husband, W’Kabi, that she would kill him for her country—for her ideals— “without question.”

Nakia, T’Challa’s love interest is just as independent as, if not slightly less badass than, Okoye. She displays an innate sense of ingenuity that is characteristic of the black women I have grown up around—and of the black women I have spent my college education studying. Even her relationship with T’Challa shows her independence: “I would make a good queen because I am stubborn [and that is only] if I wanted.” She is far from overly enamored with T’Challa even though she does love him. Her decisions are hers and hers alone, and that is a powerful narrative for black girls and women of all ages.

Shuri, head architect for Wakanda who just happens to be T’Challa’s sister, also provides new and old generations with an invaluable role-model—she runs circles around everyone in the film intellectually after all, and she does so without falling into the stereotype of the uppity, bougie black woman; she’s funny, witty, and so awesome that you can’t help but like her even as she makes T’Challa look like an idiot by blasting him across the floor of her lab, and insulting his outdated suite design: “Hey, people are shooting at me, wait! Let me put on my helmet,” or humorously calling out white people on the history of oppression that is so often overlooked “Don’t scare me like that colonizer!” Shuri is everything a smart little girl could and can be, and now all those little girls have someone to look up to.

T’Challa also represents a royalty that black men and boys haven’t seen for far too long. He loves and respects the women in his life and he does his best to be the best he can be. He is also unafraid to show emotion in a time when black men and boys are told not to do so. Ultimately, he represents a lot of what has been stifled in black men and boys for so long—he even learns from those who oppose him as he chooses to put conflict to the side in favor of ensuring his enemy, Erik Killmonger, gets to see the beautiful sunsets N’Jobu spoke of during Erik’s childhood.

M’Baku also shows that black men can be strong and aware of the needs of their people at the same time—he chooses to tap out of ritual combat instead of leaving his people without a leader to preserve his own pride. He also saves his enemy—T’Challa—when he could have let him die. M’Baku is even self-aware enough to put his desires aside for the good of Wakanda as a whole—he doesn’t take the heart shaped herb for himself when Ramonda (the former Queen of Wakanda and T’Challa and Shuri’s mother) offers it to him. He could have, but he doesn’t. Instead he leads them to T’Challa and enables them to heal T’Challa with the herb he sought at the beginning. All in all, M’Baku provides another exemplary role model for black children and people as a whole.

Each of these characters, and many of the others, provide audiences with something to look up to. After seeing this movie, I have been able—even as a twenty-year-old—to find inspiration and motivation in the characters from this film. I have been able to look at the issues I have faced, and the challenges yet to come, and know that I can overcome them. This film has reminded me that boundless potential rests dormant in each and every one of my black and brown brothers and sisters. This film has reminded me that when I look around in my classes or on campus and find myself alone in a sea of white faces, I am not less. This film has reminded me that, like Shuri, I can be better than anyone in any room. It has reminded me that like T’Challa, I can challenge all those who came before me and be right— “You were wrong! All of you were wrong…[and] I cannot rest until I set it right.” It has reminded me that, like M’Baku, I can accept defeat and use that defeat to be one of the “wise [who] build bridges [instead of] the foolish [who] build barriers.” This film has shown me what we can be—what we already are—It is just time for us to recognize what we can do and what we are already doing.

As I have been telling my friends and family for the past week: Wakanda is real. It’s in all of us. It’s the realization that we do matter and that we do not have to prove that to anyone but ourselves. The Black Panther, the Dora Milaje, the J’Bari, they are all within us and as long as we continue to fight the systems which have been built to make us think otherwise, our inner Wakanda, our Buddha Nature, our Holy Spirit, whatever you call it, will remain just as un-conquered as Wakanda.

Wakanda Forever, my friends.