The Double Edged Sword of Representation

from a daughter of the "soil"

The film screening started late. Over an hour late. It was supposed to start at 6, my friends and I arrived at around 6:45, and nothing had happened. Which was fine, because it was precisely how it expected the event to start. Late.

As is probably clear from my tone, I was not terribly excited about the late start. But, in the interim, they played the trailers from one or two of the films, so the audience got an idea of what we were about to see.

These trailers were beautiful, with stunning cinematography, gorgeous costume, breathtaking setting, and all seemed settled on a solid premise. If only. When the films eventually did start, the audience was told that after each film there would be a Q&A session with members of the cast and/or crew who were present that evening.

The first film, Ruka appeared to be a fashion short. It showcased various outfits made by a locally well-known fashion brand, and showed the avant-garde and Afro-futurist ensembles against a stark background of what appeared to be a quarry or natural rock formation with jay-blue water at its centre. It was filmed beautifully. There was no narrative. I believed it to be a music video at first, which I believe would have served the purpose of the film quite beautifully.

In the Q&A section with the filmmaker and designer, however, the audience was told a tale of fluff. The film, she and the cinematographer admitted, was narrative-free. I don't mean this in the sense of making a film to allow the viewer to parse their own narrative from the film's composite scenes, but in the sense that they had no intention of forming one. In the next breath, the audience was told that the film aimed to showcase sustainability. To embody the themes of weaving, and braiding (the meaning of the word ropa), and to show how the designs were made with crochet and macrame styles. Which is all well and good, I suppose, if there were any clarity to the statements made. I almost wish that there had not been a Q&A section. I believe it would have allowed the audience to make their meaning, to think about weaving histories, to think about braiding connections, to think about what binds them to various forms of expression. I fear that by writing this I may be giving the creators of this 'film' ideas for what to say if ever asked about its meaning, but alas.

No such luck. The film, and conversation ended, and I felt a deep sense of disappointment. Not so much because of the film itself. However, the audience seemed to find no issue at all with the film's lack of clarity. But there were two films to go.

The second film, Daughter of the Soil was one of the most beautiful works of cinematography I had seen in a while. I don't just mean on a local scale. I loved the introductory scene, with the main character (Shona, I believe) lying on a couch, forlorn while watching the TV screen croon aloud at how best to tame one’s hair, and suppress one’s natural beauty. On the table in front of her, was a vintage magazine, complete with a done-up blondie, the very nucleus of a Eurocentric beauty standard. I was looking forward to what would unfold; at last! Narrative!.

In the following scene, our main character falls asleep and finds herself in an alternative reality in her dreams. She is at the foot of a pool of water (read: Chinhoyi Caves), where she asks, "Where am I", before a dramatically-clad woman (a spirit of guidance, perhaps?) appears to tell her, in a booming voice, "You are home."

Now, aside from the evident trope, and the simple, tried-and-true wake-up-in-a-dream-world story, I was committed to it. After a scene in which the spirit of guidance woman leads Shona (who, in this dream world, wears a massive wig, meant, I assume, to embody the antithesis of the blonde curler-clad woman from the magazine) to a tree, that she puts her hand to. In a blinding flash of light, she is plunged into yet another dream world. But this is where things get muddled.

In the rest of this film, the audience is introduced to Goddesses of various attributes. Fire, femininity, strength, war, water, and…Egypt. In the costuming and makeup, it is blatantly unclear whether these goddesses are representative of Zimbabwean spirits/mediums or a specific group's strengths. There was evident tribalism in the face paint worn by most of these Goddess characters. It began to feel more and more like a spoken word music video (I'll touch on the narration in a minute), with the sudden appearance of more and more Goddesses, representative of "African" female virtues, but highly generalised, and extremely avant-garde.

I believe the film was decently scored. However, I cannot say for sure, as it was narrated in spoken word form. I wish it hadn't been narrated at all. Believe me when I say, that the film's progress was determined solely by the time that passed between its start and its end. The narration lent little to the narrative, giving introductions to the various Goddesses, and affirmative statements that the self-care and "that girl" communities of Afro-America would have eaten up. It was evident that its purpose was to affirm natural "black" beauty and "African" values, however, the way that this was done, meant that the audience was affirmed as well, as it was a first-person narrative. It is not at all that these affirmations were untrue, or should not have been spoken. It is simply that they were unfounded. Disconnected from the film, suddenly and without context. It was unclear why these goddesses were present, and where the main character was (she did not re-appear until the final scene). The settings for the scenes were beautiful, it was made in various locations around Zimbabwe, which of course, led the audience to believe these to be Zimbabwean goddesses, spirits, or values embodied. Our second Q&A revealed otherwise.

"We wanted to showcase the beauty of each African country," a member of the cast announced, at the start of the Q&A. So let's start there. There were certainly not 54 goddesses*. There were maybe 12. So to begin with a statement that attributes specificity to each goddess, led me to immediate suspicion. Further, what exactly was the Sand goddess representing? Or the Water goddess? There is certainly more than one African country that has water, that has deserts. 

Let me just say: it is just as dangerous to ascribe a generality of such immense proportion to the portrayal of our Continent, as it is to subscribe to the values of the West. Both turn a blind eye to the cultural specificity that makes each country unique and each culture within it. It is an insult to one's own to make general portrayals such as this, because if we* are to portray ourselves to the West, to the rest of the Continent, and even to our people, the audiences who engage with this film, what kind of story are we telling? Black Is Beautiful?

For the same reasons that critics within Africa took issue with Wakanda, for its portrayal of a country that could have been anywhere in the Sub-Sahara, and gave it a "culture" and style that mixed and muddles various countries' identities into one monolith, I take issue with the portrayal of the "Goddesses of Africa" in this film. If for a singular reason (I have many), because it allows us to be general where we should be specific. We must go about a more granular understanding of fashion, customs, attributes, values, and of countries as they would be represented. Who are we to ascribe a certain dress to an Egyptian goddess simply because we've seen a few films of Cleopatra? How are we meant to know our history with any depth when we continue to turn away from each country's specific knowledge and historical background? Research! It's rather simple. To put the effort required to speak to people from the places you wish to represent. To know how they dress. To know how they wish to be perceived, to know what they do and do not believe at a cultural level, because we cannot go making national claims either.

Another response to a Q&A question came, noting with pride that all of the settings in the film were in Zimbabwe. They wanted to make sure that "everything [was] from Zim." "It's time for Africa," the filmmaker boasted, "it's time for us to tell stories our own way." The film, according to the cast and crew was made to "find Africa in everything", and to "tell authentic stories that the whole world needs to see." And in closing, we were informed that not only was the film's ideology based on "mostly classical elements" (what does that even mean?), but that the costumes were made in two weeks (this fact was received with a round of applause…).

Who is classic? What is classical? Are we bending to Western canonical knowledge? Are we relying on the Roman, the Greek, and the Egyptian, as Classic? How can we work to redefine this?

And on the topic of "representation"; with no mention of the obvious contradictions between a Zimbabwean-focused setting and material usage, and this continental focus, if that is the case, whose stories are we at liberty to tell? And how can we be more intentional with how we tell our own Zimbabwean stories?

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There is so much more to say about this, about these films, about the intermission, and its various 'dialogues', and the final documentary that we watched. This was a great screening. I enjoyed myself immensely and was furiously scribbling in my notebook. But I wish it had been called a Fashion Screening. Or Fashion on Screen. But to attribute these projects to the realm of film leads me to analyses of this nature. Which can seem brutal, I know. These films can and should be the face we show to the world. Visual storytelling is an incredible tool, and we should use it wisely.

Please note: all mention of the word 'we' is in connection to Zimbabwe/ans*

counter-arguments welcome.

x

-TC