Black Panther, my hero and Wakanda, my home

Note: Originally posted on February 19, 2018. Today, reposted in loving remembrance of Chadwick Aaron Boseman (November 29, 1976-August 28, 2020).


Last night, enthralled, I watched the movie Black Panther.

Beginning last night and through this day, I contemplate the plot; though not difficult to grasp, still complex with manifold proverbial “moving parts” – some elements, fantastical, aye, cosmic and others, conventional, yet all, for me, reflective of historical and contemporary real-world realities:

The African nation Wakanda, capitalizing on a serendipitous (karmic, yet in a communal, not an individual, sense) long ago meteorite-fall laden with an earth-alien metal vibranium, is an über-technologically advanced civilization, which, cleaving to a historic arc of isolationism (Wakanda-first) so to protect its culture from external rapacious, usurpacious influences (European colonialism), outwardly pretends to be a Third-World country…

The Wakandan government is a non-titular monarchy headed by a king (aka the Black Panther), who, by custom (codified tradition with religious overtones), ingesting a heart-shaped, vibranium-infused herb, is endowed with superhuman powers to be employed for the sake of service to and for the people (as a Christian theolog, I couldn’t resist beholding a connection with 1 Corinthians 12.7: To each is given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good), and who is protected by an all-female secret service, the Dora Milaje (would that all long-believe and promote the necessity of the welcome and inclusion of women’s national-leadership!)…

To cut to the film’s fast-paced-chase, the Wakandan government, for generations, has sent emissaries (diplomats and secret agents) throughout the world to monitor the ebbs-and-flows of international political machinations; in one story-centric case, leading to subterfuge and the betrayal of established Wakandan protectionist policy (internecine party-partisan conflict), a death (murder or assassination), a cover-up (pick any historical era), and a subsequent coup d’état (again, pick any historical era!)…

In the end, order is restored, good prevails, and Wakanda, with a heart for universal and unconditional generosity (exporting benevolence, not armament; advocating peace, not war), opens its doors to a disbelieving world that wonders what this backward people can offer (would that all peoples of the world would and could accept the gifts of all peoples of the world!).

With my passport up-to-date, I am ready to travel, perhaps to relocate to Wakanda.

© 2020 PRA

2 thoughts on “Black Panther, my hero and Wakanda, my home

  1. Paul,

    I am so saddened to hear of Chad Boseman’s death. When I saw Black Panther, which I loved, I was not aware he was from Anderson. From what I have read, his acting career, though tragically brief, was iconic for the roles he played and the talent, understanding, versatility, and grace with which he portrayed such a variety of heroic figures. Knowing that he did his work while battling a terrible cancer makes his accomplishments all the more impressive and precious.

    I look forward to seeing all of his work. My prayers are with his family and friends and are offered in gratitude that he lived and inspired so many people in a time when inspiration is so sorely needed.




  2. Ah, my dear Karen, not a word I want or need or dare add to this, your lovingly graceful and gracefully loving tribute.

    Chadwick Aaron Boseman, requiescat in pace.

    Love to you, Ted, and Emilia,


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