Happy Belated Birthday, Danai Gurira: Fem Film Rogue Icon Spotlight

 

Happy belated birthday, Danai Gurira.

Born on Valentine’s Day, our favorite sweetheart Danai Gurira is an incredible double threat—an award winning actress and a Tony and Pulitzer Prize nominated playwright. For years, she turned our heads as the courageous, machete wielding Michonne on The Walking Dead, played the torn immigrant Adenike making heavy decisions in Mother of George, and kicked butt as Okoye, the head of the Dora Milaje in the Black Panther, Avengers: The Infinity War, and Avengers: Endgame. 

In Andrew Dosunmu’s Mother of George, newlywed Adenike (Danai Gurira) must keep her Yoruba family tradition alive in her new American life. DP Bradford Young. 

Born in Grinnell, Iowa to Zimbabwean parents (Josephine, a college librarian and Roger, a tenured professor at Grinnell College), Danai Jesekai Gurira was the youngest of four children . Her family returned to Zimbabwe in 1983, a few years after its gained independence from British rule. She then attended Dominican Convent High School and returned to the United States; pursuing higher education at Macalester in St. Paul, Minnesota (earning a psychology BFA) and Tisch School for the Arts at New York University (earning an MFA in acting). At Macalester, she performed the late great ntozake shange’s for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuff. While at NYU, she tried recruiting Lupita Nyong’o (who chose Yale instead) and they have been close friends ever since. Gurira also taught playwright and acting in Liberia, South Africa, and home country, Zimbabwe. 

Danai Gurira and Lupita Nyong’o have a beautiful, Black sistah girl friendship that has them traveling the world together, showing up at premieres and red carpets holding hands, and professional partnerships— co-starring in Ryan Coogler’s successful Black Panther and Nyong’o starring in Gurira’s play, Eclipsed. 

Gurira’s poignant, must-see plays are extraordinarily written; all taking considerable care to point out the role of Christianity’s dominance over the spiritual nature of Rhodesia (later turned Zimbabwe). For In the Continuum—which she both wrote and starred in— Gurira won a special citation from Obie, the Helen Hayes Award, and the Outer Critics Circle Award. The Convert tenderly showcases a young woman’s devotion to her ancestral heritage despite others desperately wanting her allegiance to new religion. It won the Whiting and Los Angeles Drama Circle Critics Award. Eclipsed is a heartbreaking drama centering the trials and tribulations of abused women during war and co-starring Nyong’o. It was the first all female cast/crew production ever on Broadway. Eclipsed was nominated for Best Play at the Tony Awards; winning Lilly, Drama Desk Awards, and ImageNation Revolution Awards. Gurira also put on a Shakespeare in the Park performance and was commissioned by Yale Preparatory Theatre for her last play Familiar. 

Michonne (Danai Gurira) lasted for eight seasons on The Walking Dead.

The funny quipping, resourceful fighting Okoye (Danai Gurira) was a real scene stealer in the Black Panther. DP Rachel Morrison.

In the acting realm, Gurira is widely known for portraying Black heroines from comic book adaptations— The Walking Dead and Black Panther. Originally, Michonne entered as a vessel withholding emotions, having lost so much to the undead disease. Grief transformed her into that machete soldier. Until, she met Rick and opened up a softer, gentler side, letting her guard down among the monsters that constantly surrounded them. Gurira won two Saturns, an honorary merit CinEuphoria, and Gracie Award for her portrayal. Black Panther’s Okoye is similar, her passion for her king and country driving her stout heart. She loves her Dora Milaje women including Nakia who is not of the army, but of Wakanda. Gurira won another Saturn, an Image Award, People’s Choice, and SAG Award for her amazing performance. Mother of George reveals Gurira’s potential to be in other roles— another stirring drama or perhaps a romantic comedy or a grisly horror— with her as the lead. Although Gurira admits that horror is not her favorite, she held her own in a gruesome zombie apocalypse. Maybe she could star in Nikyatu Jusu’s upcoming project with Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions. African womanhood/blackness is a courageous theme in Gurira’s plays. Imagining her starring in a cinematic story told by another Black woman would be struck gold. 

Danai Gurira in Los Angeles Times photographed by Christopher L. Procter, 2019. 

Still, a shame that Gurira and Nyong’o’s adaptation of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah did not pan out over at Amazon Studios. With Gurira on writing duty and Nyong’o starring as Ifemulu, that would have been an incredibly executed miniseries. 

Currently, Danai Gurira is filming the sequel Wakanda Forever sadly without its star the late Chadwick Bozeman. In addition to reteaming with bestie Lupita Nyong’o and filmmaker Ryan Coogler, Gurira has recently announced that she will be starring as Shirley Chisholm in a biopic fueled Hollywood. She will be amazing either way, having shown impeccable acting chops across genres. There is hope that while she continues to write multifaceted stories from the African woman perspective in play medium (with maybe tv/film in the future), that Gurira continues building a successful career as an actress too. She is most certainly very talented at both.  

Danai Gurira on Oscar night. 

Danai Gurira quotes:

“As a kid, that’s when you figure out how you envision yourself. You see yourself as Other as a child because you don’t have the vocabulary nor the worldview or the understanding of global history and all the dynamics of racial oppression to understand that it’s not as it should be. So as a child, you’re really being indoctrinated with the idea that you’re not it. You’re not of the right thing, and these are the people who are. And that’s what’s really scary about not giving children representation. They absorb those images. But it’s so unnecessary. We don’t actually have to put children through that. It’s really easy to give them representations of self, whatever color they are.”

“It happened for the first time when I was nine in Zimbabwe where I was raised... when it happened, I remember being surprised by it. I never thought about it. But when I did receive that compliment, a stunning brown-skinned woman took my face in her hands, her long flowing braids casting down her back. I realized it was something I would always cherish. She looked at me, observing me with deep appreciation... and told me that I was beautiful. She said it with such feeling that it filtered straight into my soul and left an indelible imprint.... So I had to consider the idea that it may just be true.”

“I love writing for actors; women of African descent and people who generally are underrepresented.”

“In terms of writing, I just wasn't finding enough stories about contemporary African people - or historical, just anything, the whole gamut. I was raised in southern Africa and I came back to the West for college. I was starting to look for what I would like to perform, what I would like to see put to life onstage, and I was finding many stories about everybody else, but none about my own people. My playwriting became a "necessity being the mother of invention" type thing. I wasn't finding what I wanted to perform, so I started to create it myself.”

Favorite Black Loves In Cinema

Cane River’s Peter (Richard Romain) and Maria (Tommye Myrick).  

Happy Valentine’s (or Single Awareness Day) to those who celebrate all kinds of love, romance, and self-care joy. 

In the Black cinematic world, there is still movement to be made in ways of a well-crafted story, compelling cinematography, and fine acting. Some films have one or two of the ingredients; barely all three to make the recipe complete. When it comes to heteronormative Black love, putting on the classic Love Jones or Jason’s Lyric (which both feature the incredible Lisa Nicole Carson) sparks up the mood whereas the out of the vault Cane River is a marvel to behold. Even the startlingly passionate Ganja & Hess must be recommended for its daring portrayal of Black vampiric lust despite the unhappy ending for the pair. 

Black LGBTQIA+ films such as Moonlight, Pariah, and Rafiki contain the queer violence that comes from sanctimonious communities that cannot accept such a love. Yet that is only for a moment that that ugly bandaid comes off and the healing slowly begins. Moonlight is exceptionally beautiful for showcasing the bonds between skinfolk and kinfolk, subtleties between love and longing, and the desire for men to be themselves alone and with each other. Pariah and Rafiki have these awestruck profoundly engaging periods of Black women love; joining hands in friendship and embarking on bliss no matter the consequences. Bessie, dee rees other film, highlights the musician’s bisexuality starring Queen Latifah who doesn’t need to don a fat suit. This Bessie role suits her and doesn’t end like her tragic Cleo in Set it Off. Overwhelmingly romantic short films tender and pure are charming gems that share a sweet intimacy with thought-provoking conversations and dancing between women. 

As for the asexual spectrum in film, we have a crucial journey ahead. Characters rarely seek happiness outside finding relationships. Although Alike ends on her burgeoning writing path, throughout Pariah, she has a great desire to explore her sexuality, hidden like a flaming shame from her parents. Selah in Selah and the Spades, however, is high on the adrenaline of power, allowing nothing not even the idea of idyllic teenage sex lure her away from her intense drive— a drive that has Paloma looking at Selah in moments of perpetual longing. On the darker side of asexuality, the rooted misogynoir historically depicted through the white lens. Writer Kira Sterrert brushes up on the mammy beginnings in filmdaze; addressing how Black women behind-the-scenes are finally creating their own corrected promotion:

“The more Black women that are writers, directors, and producers in Hollywood, the more they’ll bring narratives that depict positive and real depictions of Black life as a woman or femme. Black women are more than their bodies or their relation to white people, they are multi-hyphenate and multidimensional — pure magic.”

Here’s hoping for a cinematic future filled with all representations of love created that Black filmmakers create for Black cinephiles (and all other cinephiles) to appreciate in the years to come. 

Recommended Films About Black Love By Black Filmmakers 

Love Jones, written and directed by Theodore Witcher, 1997. 

Pariah, written and directed by dee rees, 2011.

Moonlight, written by Tarrell Alvin McCraney and Barry Jenkins and directed by Barry Jenkins, 2016.

Ganja & Hess, written by Bill Gunn and directed by Bill Gunn and Lawrence Jordan, 1973. 

Really Love, written by Felicia Pride and Angel Kristi Williams and directed by Angel Kristi Williams, 2020. 

Rafiki, written and directed by Wanuri Kahiu, 2019. 

The Weekend, written and directed by Stella Meghie, 2018.  

Heaven Reaches Down to Earth, written by Tebogo Malebogo and Petrus van Staden and directed by Tebogo Malebogo.

pure, written and directed by Natalie Jasmine Harris, 2021. 

tender, written and directed by Felicia Pride, 2020. 

Cane River, written and directed by Horace Jenkins, 1982, remastered and released 2018. 

Selah and the Spades, written and directed by Tayarisha Poe, 2019.

Jason’s Lyric, written by Bobby Smith Jr. and directed by Doug McHenry, 1994.  

Middle of Nowhere, written and directed by Ava DuVernay, 2012.  

Bessie, written and directed by dee rees, 2015. 

Boxing Day, written and directed by Aml Ameen, 2021.  

How Stella Got Her Groove Back, written by Terry McMillan and Ronald Bass and directed by Kevin Rodney Sullivan, 1998. 

Black Women Actresses Will Always, Always Forever Matter

 

Jennifer Hudson’s Oscar snub for playing the late singer/pianist Aretha Franklin in Respect is another terrible yearly moment in Black women actresses history. 

The Academy simultaneously makes laughably bad decisions regarding Black History Month social media posts that highlight their compliance to racism and announces more bad news for Black women actresses in a single day. We’re in for the 93rd year of Black women losing out on the Best Leading Actress statuette because no one even made the official five. In the voter’s eyes, Black women could not compete with the subpar all white women nominees with their prosthetics and bad accents. 

The Oscar is supposedly the highest honor to be achieved for all those in film— the world’s most expensive art form. Yet Black women have to work twice as hard and still come up empty. Let’s not forget that these women are supremely educated— coming from Juilliard, Yale, Sarah Lawrence, even Howard University. Or performed since childhood. Thus, I cannot believe this prestigious honor repetitively overlooks extremely talented Black women. 

Hollywood does not care. They hate them. They hate Black women. 

We grew up on awards shows, watching mainly for the beautiful dresses and hoping that someone we liked would win something. The Emmys, the Grammys, the Oscars— it was the same predicable outcome. White people were coming out on top no matter how mediocre their efforts in acting and music. With the extra addition of nepotism, it became even more challenging for Black talent to crack a nomination, especially Black women. They seem to have it tougher than anyone. 

Twenty years ago, when Denzel Washington and Halle Berry won Best Actor and Best Actress at the Oscars, I was a high school senior. That pivotal moment brought real hope that perhaps others would come after. Since then, Black women would occasionally be nominated, but never win. These mysterious voting entities set it up for the same white women nominees, some of them earning two trophies before a Black woman can ever achieve her first. In reality, Black women are also not getting satisfactory lead roles. In a male dominated industry, white women are served main courses. Black women are lucky to be the dessert. If they’re lead and not a slave/servant, the nomination is that much harder. That’s how the voters prefer their Black women— as supporting— not a phenomenal carrier of a great story. 

Still, to the Black actresses and thespians, the next generation of Claudia McNeil’s, Beulah Richardson’s, Diahann Carroll’s, and Cicely Tyson’s, we have another barrier to tear down. It is not the Oscar. The Oscar is an organization upholding its nearly one-hundred-year-old club. It is in each other that we must look to. By supporting the future storytellers who will write and direct incredible stories starring the best Black actresses that Hollywood refuses to acknowledge, we are moving forward, progressing to the Barry Jenkins,’ Nia DaCosta’s, Nikyatu Jusu’s, Radha Blank’s, Ekwa Mangi’s, Chinonye Chukwu’s of this world. They foster integral cinematic visions worthy of our joy and praise and challenge the grueling systems in place with sharp, intelligent eyes. We need their movies supported and distributed. 

Moreover, Black women are the most beautiful, inspiring, resilient masterpieces to me and that’s why this little blog exists. It is high time to let go of the Oscars and what they represent because this yearly disrespect should not be so normalized. 

Great Black Women Performances That Will Always, Always Matter Beyond This*  

Jennifer Hudson in Respect, 2022. 

Nicole Beharie in Miss Juneteenth, 2021. 

Lupita Nyong’o in Us, 2020. 

Alfre Woodard in Clemency, 2020. 

Regina Hall in Support the Girls, 2019.

Viola Davis in Widows, 2018. 

Taraji P. Henson in Hidden Figures, 2016. 

Madina Nalwanga in Queen of Katwe, 2016. 

Gugu Mbatha-Raw in Beyond the Lights, 2014. 

Emayatzy Corinealdi in Middle of Nowhere, 2013. 

Adepero Oduye in Pariah, 2011. 

Nicole Beharie in American Violet, 2008. 

Pam Grier in Jackie Brown, 1997. 

Zelda Harris in Crooklyn, 1994. 

Ariyan Johnson in Just Another Girl on the I. R. T.,1992. 

Alva Rogers in Daughters of the Dust, 1991.

Mary Alice in To Sleep With Anger, 1990. 

A Belated Sorry To Isabel on ‘Greenleaf’

For only nine episodes, Anna Diop played the fiancée of Noah on OWN’s juicy church series Greenleaf. Most of us were not meant to be on her side. 

Oh dearest Isabel.

I apologize for not seeing through to Greenleaf’s problematic gaze sooner. For so long, I was blind to the obvious intentions to make dark-skinned Black women poorly unrootable characters. With Charity’s terrible storylines, Kerissa being cheated on, Zora the Bad Seed, and Isabel, the bitter, unwanted shrew, I should have been the light earlier on. Naturally, we were supposed to be Team Gigi— the light-skinned, long haired leading lady who still desired Noah, the chauffeur— Isabel’s extremely fickle fiancé.  

Isabel (Anna Diop) tried to make Gigi feel small for not having a date to her and Noah’s (Benjamin Patterson) engagement party.

I revisit Greenleaf with a freshly opened mind now. 

Sometimes television shows depict the fiancée/girlfriend as the real side chick— a man’s last desperate quest to commitment despite truly not being one-hundred percent sure. Sex and the City’s Mr. Big still wanted Carrie, Insecure’s Lawrence still wanted Issa, and Harlem’s Issac still wanted Camille. Although Lawrence wasn’t married to his eventual baby mother, Condola, they were in a serious relationship. Mr. Big was married and Issac engaged. When the ex is within sight, the man’s eyes strays to the one who got away, forgetting that his intended exists. In Greenleaf, Noah wanted Gigi the moment she came back home. It was apparent in his gaze, his body language. The undeniable thirst wasn’t necessarily unreturned either. Yet Isabel stayed pressing him on, being every inch the Christian woman mirroring another woman’s behavior. Kerissa likely trapped her polyamorous husband Jacob with the same teasing game. 

Isabel deserved better than Noah and a tired “other woman” story. 

Obviously, the audience is not supposed to champion Isabel. She must be written as unsympathetic as possible so that Gigi, the sainted soulmate, swoops in and takes back her former lover. Isabel withholds sex from Noah, wanting to save it for marriage— an old-fashioned tradition. It is a beautiful pact, not for everyone in the contemporary age. She uses it, however, as a bargaining tool, a chip to keep Noah in line. Except free spirited, lonely Gigi desires Noah too. It doesn’t take long for her to be “ridden hard and put away wet” by Noah. Unfortunately, Isabel puts two and two together. Instead of dumping a cheater who doesn’t love her, she chooses to break her vow, having sex with him. This is disturbing for two reasons— Isabel’s foolish determination to win a man already lost and giving him something he did not deserve. 

At the time, I remembered vouching hard for Gigi and Noah. Maybe it was the heightened soapy drama of it all, that forbidden passion, those longing looks. Yet behind my rooting, I wondered what would have happened if Gigi and Isabel switched places. What if Isabel and Noah were the past lovers and Gigi, the jilted fiancée? See the blatant colorism tactics on Greenleaf definitely set out to disservice Isabel and her beautiful portrayer Anna Diop (who leads and puts on a terrific, layered performance in Nikyatu Jusu’s Sundance Grand Jury Prize winning Nanny). She was a victim of the show’s specific agenda. By making the lighter skinned and biracial women characters more desirable and sympathetic, Isabel and others of her complexion had no real chance. Isabel was in the way of “true love” and the slanted writing did her no favors. In addition to this Greenleaf situation, Diop later endured racist fueled hatred for playing an orange character in the DC serial Titans. So that adds an extra layer of regret on past treatment to her and Isabel (mean tweets exist). 

We still have much unlearning to do, especially in regards to how dark-skinned Black women are treated in television and film, even in the year 2022. 

Model/actress/activist Anna Diop from Okay Africa’s 100 Women.

When Isabel and Noah eventually leave town, they sadly marry offscreen— which quite frankly is doomed to fail because Isabel deserves a man who fully loves her. It is another obstacle. This notion that Black women have to settle for less. Isabel likely believes that being far removed from temptation changes a man’s heart, but that’s still the thorn prickling between them. Isabel is not first in Noah’s heart. Although they later divorce (also offscreen), Isabel was in the same rocky boat as Charity Greenleaf. They both married people hiding their true selves. Except in Isabel’s case, she knew that Noah still loved Gigi and Charity had no idea Kevin grappled with his sexuality. 

After an ice cold Nina Simone moment of removing myself from a table where love (if you can call it love) was no longer being served, I stopped watching Greenleaf mid season three. The red flags were practically bursting at the seams. The once guilty pleasure made me feel guilty for being a dark-skinned Black woman watching those looking like me getting shafted, treated like second best (or last best in Isabel’s case). There was nothing or no one to celebrate or root for. Charity continued falling in a downward spiral, Zora stayed abused, and Kerissa schemed and schemed over a man who still kept cheating. 

We the offended should have followed in Isabel’s footsteps in Greenleaf. We should have up and left the poisonous realm that the Calvary provided too. The whole environment was unhealthy and toxic. In a caring, promising future, writers must be able to craft out supportive, compassionate spaces for gorgeous, dark-skinned Black women like Isabel who shouldn’t have to change and/or sacrifice herself in order to obtain an unwilling man. 

This is a genuine sorry to Isabel (and Anna Diop) and the other dark-skinned Black women characters partaking in a predictable story that we all know so well. We reject with a full, valiant heart. 

Isabel deserved better.

The audience deserved better. 

‘Livin For Love: The Natalie Cole Story’ Shadowed With Repressed Grief

Livin’ For Love: The Natalie Cole Story film poster. 

On this day, nine time Grammy winner and three time American Music Awards recipient Natalie Cole would have been turning seventy-two years old. Thus, why not celebrate by revisiting Livin’ For Love— her autobiographical film based on her memoirs? Often left off lists of actors/actresses playing themselves in biopics, this Robert Townsend directed work should definitely be included because Cole narrates and co-stars. She is a heartbreaking example of the Hollywood philosophy of lifting a celebrity up and bringing them down hard when they show flaws, human error. 

It begins with a house fire (occurring four days after her 31st birthday). A very high Cole wants to save her drugs above anything else. A privileged upbringing set her apart and should have been the means to growing up with a good head on her shoulders. Daughter of famed jazz singer and pianist Nat King Cole, her younger self lived in a predominantly white neighborhood and attended an affluent private school in New England. She mostly made friends due to her father’s status. Yet she was the apple of her father’s eye; so much a pride and joy that he puts her onto music too. Although he was in big demand—tours, record studios, television— he loved being the family man, especially for the daughter who idolized him. Once the tragedy struck of losing her father, she would later unleash her pent up sadness in a devastating delayed reaction. After all, Maria Cole continued sending her daughter to school, offering limited time to properly grieve, let alone lending an attentive shoulder to cry on. 

College introduced the impressionable, isolated Natalie Cole to darker, obscene pleasures; an ugly underground that took her years to escape. With her natural curiosity to try everything and letting peer pressure guide her into unfamiliar territory, she experiments more and more with hardcore drugs including heroin and crack cocaine. In the meantime, she finds the inclination to sing and sounds impressive, charming. Her mother forbids it, having still not completely recovered over her own grief. On campus, Cole becomes nervous— everyone has discovered she’s music royalty. Her nepotism is expected, exaggerated. Drugs lure her deeper. It becomes easier to use than to be clean. This sends her life in a serious uproar with detrimental consequences. 

Livin’ For Love lets Cole tell her perspective. The failure with a majority of biopics nowadays is an embellished story here or there going too far; made up facts as opposed to revealing the cold hard truth. Sure, the lives of celebrities are wilder than most, but audiences want to be satisfied with some measure of accuracy, especially those of us who research afterward. “Based on a true story” doesn’t cut it if the information is pure fabrication. Cole is very involved in this film as co-writer, star, and producer. 

Diahann Carroll (Maria), Natalie Cole, and Theresa Randle (teen/young adult Natalie). 

Robert Townsend—well-known for films showcasing Black excellence, music in particular— crafts Cole’s story in an engaging way, putting us into her need for love and comfort, seeking solace in addiction, and finding recovery through channeling her father’s music. Diahann Carroll was the perfect choice to portray Cole’s mother Maria, a retired singer who prioritized her husband’s career over her own. A great scene features Maria visiting a strung out Natalie at college; appalled and dismissive of her natural hair and braless attire. Beneath the insult, Carroll combines her trademark diva attitude with a soft sincerity that assures a mother’s heart— buried deep within— exists. Theresa Randle, from Townsend’s earlier classic The Five Heartbeats, stands out as the Natalie Cole in her teen and young adult years, cleverly switching between Black power radicalism to messy drug addict wife. However, Randle could have been pushed more— makeup wise— into portraying the sickness that is drug abuse. The eighties were such a bad time— crack cocaine and heroin killing great artists like Jean-Michel Basquiat. Natalie Cole herself would have been next. In her film, she was a marvelous, apologetic soul expressing regret, pain, sorrow, and joy. Endless tragedy almost killed her spirit, but she was able to turn around and triumph, especially that beautiful voice in a challenging, unforgiving industry. For playing herself, Cole won the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Actress in a Miniseries or Special. 

Livin’ For Love may be an understated television movie that seems made for Lifetime. It is a humble cinematic treasure that adds an unforgettable piece of Natalie Cole history alongside her impressive musical catalog. When she left us on a cold New Year’s Eve, a remarkable legacy stayed behind and not because of her famous father. 

Natalie Cole was a talent, a star in her own right too. 

‘Like Cotton Twines,’ A Cycle Of Pain and Small Triumph

 

Like Cotton Twines film poster.

Sometimes a real heartbreaker comes along to sabotage this Western conditioning of heroes and saviors— this cinematic belief that the poor victim will be saved in the nick of time. Leila Djansi’s film In Cotton Twines offers little glimpses of hope for an African teenage girl named Tuigi stuck in old ways. While set in a modern time with patriarchal structures and problematic religious practices set in stone, Black women and girls like Tuigi suffer the most tremendous costs. 

Tuigi’s smile is a constant highlight until it gradually stops occurring. DP Pete Villani.

The film opens on Tuigi and her best friend watch Tuigi’s mother giving birth; Tuigi vows that this will not happen for her. After a long wait, Tuigi finally gets her period, staining her demure pink dress. Later than other village girls, Tuigi’s family is pleased. Meanwhile Micha Brown, an American volunteer, is on his way to a new teaching position, enthused to come to Ghana, a place loved by his late mother who traveled there as a young girl. Micha and Tuigi soon form a bond. Unfortunately her foolish father’s mistakes lead another path for Tuigi. 

Tuigi’s (Ophelia Klenam Dzidzornu) happiness comes in the form of learning with Micha (Jay Ellis). DP Pete Villani.

Many uncomfortable moments arise including powerless Tuigi’s mother unable to help her daughter be spared endless inflicted excruciations. Scenes become far too painful to watch as viewers are subjected to blood spillage over and over. Tuigi is battling a war that she cannot win. Blood is the glaring reality for women/girls— shown in three acts. First, the menstrual cycle— a feminine right of passage, a quiet, unnoticeable naturalness that Tuigi doesn’t even realize. Then blood comes from what is done to Tuigi— both acts violent and painful. The forceful violence of circumcision (without anesthesia) is a whole guttural mess. Once Tuigi is sentenced to ten years in the shrine (a place that sacrificed girls are held captive and must endure a nasty old libertine), she is raped at too young an age. 

Tuigi doesn’t deserve this penance. No girl does. 

Micha (Jay Ellis) and Sarah (Yvonne Okoro). DP Pete Villani.

In the beginning, a reluctant, defeated Sarah was hesitant to join Micha’s mission to save Tuigi from her unfair fate. A fellow schoolteacher who is obviously attracted to Micha, Sarah questions authority and goes immediately to school head Father Baani for aide, blasting the system for raping young girls. 

“How you know? Were you there?”

The unsettling question comes from the lips of most nonbelievers— primarily men. Yet it is a shocking surprise from Father Baani. Only a full grown man would imagine a fourteen-year-old prisoner willingly inviting sex with a monster whose targets are as premature as eight-years-old. That’s the world in a nutshell; the unchallenged allowance of men getting away with their pedophilia and violence and muttering these “asking for it” and “where’s the proof” logistics as though victims have recording cameras at ready. It’s Bill Cosby, Anthony Anderson, Nate Parker, the church, and a host of alleged others in a long list of celebrated men who should be held accountable for mistreating women. Patriarchal structures are as globally wide as the consequences of colonialism. To begin loosening this tight knot means addressing the problem within. 

Micah and Sarah’s crusade gains additional help from a white lady named Jean. Years ago, Jean had been unsuccessful in her efforts to prevent a girl from receiving a “shrine sentence” as well. Meanwhile, Sarah during her time teaching, has lost three girls. 

Tuigi, Micha, and Sarah— a beautiful makeshift family. DP Pete Villani.

Before and during her sentence, education is important to a bright, intelligent Tuigi. She quickly picks up on Micha’s lessons and takes to secret studies out of the shrine’s watchful eye. It is her only solace; learning new ideas, pleased to receive positive remarks from the encouraging Micha. When exams come around, Tuigi’s community pulls in to ensure she can take them. Sadness is an overwhelming here— due to wishing that these people had earlier come together to protect all girls from their family’s crimes. While they’re avidly campaigning for Tuigi, her parents are no where in sight. 

Sarah (Yvonne Okoro) celebrating their small yet sentimental victory. DP Pete Villani. 

Leila Djansi’s heavy screenplay reveals a Ghana still letting religion conquer over its people, endangering mostly girls and women wrongly subjected to carrying out a family sentence. Ophelia Klenam Dzidzornu’s multifaceted performance as Tuigi puts in a brave face and delivers a smile to her friend and teacher, reflecting that though her conditions are dire, her education brings her the most joy and pleasure. Truly hopeful that she can have a successful career in a system where only Black British and white imports have outstanding global successes. As for Insecure’s Jay Ellis as Micha, he played the role decently. There’s promise that he can become a stronger actor if more complex roles like Micah are led his way. 

A few cons: indecent that Micah and Sarah have sex immediately after Tuigi is taken away. By the end, very unclear if they’re just friends or became more than colleagues. Also, Micha asking Tuigi, “are you pregnant?” was cringy. This line could have been either more carefully considered (after all Tuigi is a young victim) or not been vocally spoken at all. 

Still, Like Cotton Twines deserves the honors bestowed for telling a brutal narrative interlaced with hope and joy. Leila Djansi is definitely a filmmaker worth notice. 

Tuigi’s daughter grows up to become a ballerina. DP Pete Villani.

Like Cotton Twines leaves us with hope through the tears; hope for our dreams to come true if not through us, but by those who come next.