'Black Girl' Bears A Heavy Mental Diagnosis for Black Women

Black Girl film poster.

Despite being released in 1960, Ousmane Sembène's award-winning Black Girl exposes the oppressive system set in the colonialist world today and should be required watching material for those invested in classic films revealing deeper provocation through a Black lens. Black Girl is one of the better offerings on the eclectic Criterion Channel streaming service, launched after Film Struck's unfortunate demise.

Diouana (Mbissine Thérèse Diop) is a stylish, carefree young woman in Dakar seeking a job to support her family.

A picture of joy and passion (here in her boyfriend's bedroom), Djouana's disposition will shift in the employ.

In this compelling masterpiece, it is like a grand fairy tale that an excited Senegalesen woman named Diouana is singled out and chosen to care for a French woman's children. She has dreams for seeing the big, fancy city and becoming as sophisticated as the European magazine models (though quite frankly she is already utterly beautiful and charming). Anything must be more fascinating than the rural life of the impoverished village girl in Dakar. Yet the white Madame has entirely different intentions. At first polite and accommodating Madame gradually changes into a name-calling, slaphappy villain. And Madame's husband, Monsieur, though lenient and kind to Diouana, is silent to his wife's obnoxious behavior.

Diouana slowly becomes morose and solitary, staying in rooms too long, her sanity compromised for the benefit of a rich, bossy stranger. She obviously feels great humiliation from this unexpected betrayal, weighted down by the naivety of illusions. Diouana has fallen under the spell that these misguided illusions cast, often making Black women believe that her country, that where she comes from is less valid than the falsely advertised, materialistic propaganda.

That hungry desire for something better cannot always be found in predominantly white spaces.

Madame (Anne-Marie Jelinek) and Diouana (Mbissine Thérèse Diop) with the letter from Diouana's mother.

Black Girl raises existing concerns about white women's damaging perception and desire to control Black women's bodies-- a whole ugly history entirely. They are not innocent flowers more like complicit allies-- abusing Black women's bodies in any way possible, especially considering their role in slavery (which was not simply just a demonstration of white man's physical, mentally, emotional power over Black bodies). For example, Madame continuously calls Diouana "lazy." Tired, overworked Diouana, the Madame's mule, is the one cooking, cleaning, and watching the madam's children. Under the guise of feminism, certain white women defensively keep hold of white patriarchal views and white supremacy because in both instances white women are the primary victor, the apple in the white man's eye. Recently, even a non-Black woman of color author called out a transit worker on social media for eating on public transit. In so many critical eyes, Black women are incapable of showing weakness (sleepiness, hunger, sadness, etc.) and that fabrication needs to end today. Madame ruthlessly enjoyed having authority over Diouana and utilized it every chance she could.

 

Diouana may have felt unsatisfied in Dakar. Perhaps something 

Mon Cherie is likely familiar to modern day publications Seventeen, Vogue, Glamour, etc., magazines that amp up the white women's beauty while making women of color find their own lacking.

Diouana is not allowed a moment's peace. The girl cannot do her own hair without Madame needing assistance.

Diouana's mental illness--often grossly questioned in the Black community-- affects encounters with her further abusive employer. Withdrawn and internalizing her sadness without a true outlet to release frustrations, Diouana's plight from humble beginning to bittersweet end presents a psychological parallel raising awareness on the harmful effects of a specific form of white abuse. She is grossly lied to, manipulated, paraded about, exhibited like a wild savage to the madam's rude dinner friends. An isolated Black woman in a foreign country without no friends and no resources has only the option of remaining in their employ or running away and being subjected to all sorts of other dangerous cruelties in the streets. 

 

Diouana calls Madame and Monsieur's house a prison, merely stating that that she has no free agency to exist in a role beyond a racialized, gender specific stigma. The bars are invisible. Yet her emotional frame of mind is broken, irreparable. 

 

In her room, a depressed Djouana admits a devastating defeat.

Black Girl is a short yet morally important film that stands the test of time. With a resonating "yesterday" feeling weaved into Diouana's heartbreaking story, it is groundbreaking work in its exploration of mental crisis caused by racism and the problematic scope of white women's lack of supporting Black women's interior and exterior being. Plus, Mbissine Thérèse Diop's underrated performance (as well as some of her own handmade clothes) is worth the sixty-minutes.

The Gorgeous Promise In 'First' And Its Heartbreaking Incompletion

First web series poster.

Robin and Charles need to come back and give us a proper ending. Please. Please.

Yes, those were my immediate thoughts after recently binging, First, a four-year-old web series that had my fingers nearly scratching my eyes out. It ended on a rather intense cliffhanger, one had to search for specials, a bonus episode, something to tide over what was a euphoric captivation. When the premise mentioned a nod to Love Jones, I knew it would be perfect.

This web series is an art. Every scene, every frame is lit beautifully. It deserves another season. A true close.

Young Robin (Jordan Wells) and Charles (K.J. Powell) were always there for each other. Prime example, Charles's mother deals with a longtime illness. Robin happens to come by while she's at the hospital. Robin, in turn, gets morose Charles out of the house, holds his hand, and instructs him to look up at the stars with her. 

Robin's (Jahmela Biggs) first "I love you" to Charles (Will Catlett) came out unexpectedly in a game of one word-- hers being the most important three words put together.

Fun, panoramic times at the beach.

First centers on the growing bond between childhood friends, Robin, a writer who cannot cook to save her life and Charles, a youth counselor/poet who learned the ways of the kitchen from his mother. These beautiful deep brown skinned characters have an irresistible chemistry that blossoms in quite a realistic fashion. They are two seemingly ordinary souls destined to be together, ultimately defining a sophisticated portrait of Black love. This gorgeous, tender story combines charm, humor, and romance in a convincing maneuverability, making it quite difficult to pause. The episodes are so joined, so fluid that one must keep watching each addictive segment. From the first love, to the first confession, to the first candlelight dinner, the pure poignancy of Robin and Charles is too undeniably delicious to be categorized a simple guilty pleasure.

Prelude to a kiss.

Romantic bath. 

The worry for not having all the answers for young Black men.

Finding new paths (also love for Robin's Reading Rainbow t-shirt).

Brushing teeth together-- equally imperative.

Robin has the big fear of not having a lasting love. After all, her parents are no longer together and that hurts her immensely. Charles, however, wants the committed bliss his parents have and believes that Robin is The One.

While each episode relates to the couple's series of firsts, their routines are a natural reflection as well as fascinating representation on the realities of falling in love and staying there.  Trials and tribulations come and go. Most importantly, is the great need to protect the love of Robin and Charles at all costs, biting all the fingernails through every little to significant disagreement.

Best friends Robin (Jahmela Biggs) and Katori (Ciji Michelle Campbell) are friendship goals-- supportive and uplifting. Even if they can't always be together, these sistah friends keep constant contact via skope.

Love that Charles's best friend, Brock (James Bland) finds a 'first' of his own with Mikayla (Elaina Julia), a kind woman he met through a dating app, living in Nairobi, Kenya.  She invited him to visit and he accepted, planning to leave the country for the first time.

Unfortunately, skope can bring unexpected news.

Triple threat Jahmela Biggs, First writer/creator, stars as Robin and the devastatingly handsome, super talented Will Catlett plays Charles. Again, cannot stress enough how phenomenal this duo, how incredibly believable Biggs and Catlett are in their roles. Among intriguing music choices and splendid cinematography, the stage is set for some top notch acting proficiency. Biggs and Catlett with memorable supportive efforts from James Bland (as poet Brock) and Ciji Michelle Campbell (the engaged best friend-- very rare for the best friend to be engaged before main) deliver performances that many have applauded due to their remarkable ability to portray Black realities in the real world.

Plus, the Black efforts behind-the-scenes are just as important as the happenings on-screen. And the web series as a whole feels authentically Black, "made for us by us."

From season two's thirty minute finale, First Candlelight Dinner, Charles (Will Catlett) sets up a spontaneous meal for a surprised Robin (Jahmela Biggs). 

Ugh. Charles's expression. 

Robin may be expectant. 

Last kiss?

First left a considerable mark in the web series genre, a back door still opened. Maybe someday Robin and Charles will let the world know the evolution between them. Until then, there are two glorious seasons to enjoy on the Issa Rae Presents channel, two glorious, highly recommended seasons that are perfect on rainy days, lonely days, "love jones" days.