In 2017, when Jordan Peele’s Get Out was released, I could not stop talking about it. I only knew Peele from Key and Peele, a comedy web series that keeps me updated on American politics. Get Out is a film that I did not imagine possible in Hollywood. I was especially drawn to it because of its main soundtrack Sikiliza Kwa Wahenga composed by the celebrated Michael Abels. Sung in both Kiswahili, which is largely simplified, and English, the track urges the audience to listen to their ancestors. This representation was very significant to me given that ancestral relations are strongly emphasized in my own culture. At the same time, I could not help but wonder why I cared so much about the film if it primarily represented African American experiences, which don’t necessarily mirror mine. Who was I to celebrate the film? Why did I feel so passionately about American society and politics? A key term that potentially answers these questions for me is ‘Pan Africanism,’ — a movement that encourages and strengthens bonds of solidarity between all ethnic groups of African descent.

For a long time, I did not understand the meaning of Pan Africanism. What I did know is that I wanted to find other films like Get Out that represented my identity, however slightly. And I did. An example is Dani Kouyaté’s Medan Vi Lever (2016), the title of which translates to While We Live. It tells the story of a single mother, Kandia, who is from Gambia but resides in Sweden with her Swedish-Gambian son Ibbe. Kandia works as a nurse at a local hospital where she, unsurprisingly, is subject to discrimination given her racial identity. Her brother Sekou is a taxi driver and lives close by. Sekou mostly speaks in English with an accent that echoes his Gambian identity. Ibbe only speaks Swedish and is seen to enjoy spending time with his paternal grandparents. Kandia’s marriage to her late husband is the subject of much criticism from both their parents due to their races; so, unlike her son, she is not close to her in-laws. Aside from facing challenges in nurturing Ibbe, Kandia is also torn between her Swedish identity — which she cannot fully encompass because of her African ancestry — and her African identity — which she has been withdrawn from for 30 years. So she decides to visit Gambia to rediscover the identity that feels more natural. Ibbe, although keen on succeeding as a Swedish rapper, follows her on this journey that informs his new perspective on identity.

I resonated with this film not only because of my association with certain cultural details, but also because of its acknowledgement of experiences of migration and racial discrimination faced by African immigrants across the globe. Additionally, as much as the film celebrates multicultural relationships, it also depicts the challenges that come with defining an identity amidst all the layers. It reminded me of Professor Manthia Diawara’s book We Won’t Budge (2003), which reflects on the experience of African immigrants in the U.S and France. He illustrates the challenges that African immigrants face in trying to assimilate within western cultures. In the film, we see a comparable situation through Ibbe who is unable to penetrate the Swedish music industry despite his attempts to be as Swedish in his expression as possible.

Both Professor Manthia and the eminent Burkinabé director Kouyaté recognize the challenges that people of African descent face in defining their identities. But they also seem to reiterate the importance of learning and embracing all aspects of these identities instead of trying to assimilate or only engage with a particular one. Kandia and her son engage with both their Swedish and Gambian identities. Only then do they find a sense of self that allows for their happiness. I appreciated the opportunity that such films offer in learning about other social contexts within and beyond the African continent.

And that is what it comes down to. Representation in cinema not only allows for the opportunity to see one’s experiences embodied, but also to learn about other social, political and cultural contexts. Pan Africanism encourages and strengthens bonds of solidarity between all indigenous and diasporic ethnic groups of African descent. I think this is best achieved if we open our minds to our differing histories and engage with them critically. I do not necessarily have to know everything there is to know about other African cultures to understand African cinema, just as I do not necessarily have to be an expert on African American history to understand films like Get Out. It is in opening our minds to the diasporic perspectives drawn in the films that we can then engage with them constructively. Of course, not all diasporic artists aim for didacticism through their art, but there is often an embracement of experiences and histories that are transnational, and we simply have to open our minds to them.