#king of dahomey

[postcard-from-the-past]

Béhanzin, former King of Dahomey, modern-day Republic of Benin with his wives in exile in Algeria

French vintage postcard

[melaninpov]

The Agojie | Dahomey Amazons

in The Woman King

[blacksapphhicmaddonna]

half truths pt. 1

Izogie x Nanisca 

Izogie didn’t die before the end battle - at least not all the way. She has come back home to the palace, but Nanisca knows she isn’t all there. Nanisca knows everything - almost. There’s a lot of things both of them haven’t admitted, but one seems to be taking a step towards vulnerability while one seems to be fighting some internal conflicts. Izogie is still a badass, though. 

Mother/Daughter vibes underneath Commander/Lieutenant pairing. There’s a lot of respect, but there’s also a lot of love.

content warnings: mentions of wounds/scars, enslavement/enslavers, war/battle, weapons, body parts/physical training. (no fluff or smut stuff yet but it’s only part one lmaooo).

Fon to English Translations (these may not be perfect, if anybody has any feedback pls lmk!!!): 

Dŏwe - Lieutenant

Vǐ ce - My Child

Word Count: 1,935

I love Nanisca, she’s never in any fics so I wanted to start out with her and her relationship to Izogie being developed. There’s more to come with her and Amenza, and Nawi as well.

______________________________________________________________

Her eyes were dead set on the pair of strong legs in front of her as she pulled herself up off the ground, again and again - a look of total focus for something far beyond what was before her. Her hands made room for themselves in the hot, burnt orange soil. Her toes bent in, somehow equally as strong as the rest of her body, hinging with her every push.

The sun was just starting to go down, everyone else had finished training that day but the warrior and Nanisca had made a deal to do some extra work to get her back where she was before her injuries. She was lieutenant after all, and despite what happened - she was Agojie. They both were, and neither knew when something else might happen or when new trainees would come. She needed to be ready, they both agreed - despite Nanisca’s slight apprehension. 

“170…30 more.” Nanisca said, rolling the point of a dulled dagger on her finger tip, balancing the blade’s end between her other pointer. She knew it was practically nothing for the warrior to complete reps like this, she knew of the long nights and early mornings she spent training in what she thought was secret. Nanisca believed herself to know everything that went on in the palace and within the Agojie. But especially of what her successor was up too. She once did, maybe. But now, she wasn’t so sure. She only wish she knew more of what went on in the woman’s mind, the place where no one else could see. After so much turmoil, Nanisca felt the need to be more sure now than ever of what was taking place in her orbit.

“10 more. Alternate them.” Nanisca coached as she walked behind the woman to check her form from the back, noticing small cuts on her ankles and up her calves. She made note of this, filing it away with the rest of the knowledge she held about what was always going on around her, even if not in front of her. She looked at the woman’s arms and shoulders. Her form was perfect, as always. 

As the warrior swiftly - precisely - switched arms each rep, it was as if she was holding her breathe. Her core was tight and engaged, her legs never shook like any of the trainees and even some of the other Agojie (to which they tried to hide.). She was always precise, always on time, and always solid.

“You may stop now.” Nanisca said, bringing her mind back to focus. 

The warrior brought her knees forward and sat down, arms stretching behind her. She caught her breath, in quiet but big gulps.

“Tell me, Izogie, what have you been doing while I am not watching?”

The warrior hiccuped and choked on the air she was attempting to restore rhythm to for a split second, recovering quickly.

She didn’t answer, silence sat between them aside from the sounds of Izogie’s breath returning to center.

“You have nothing to say, Dŏwe?” Nanisca paused, waiting to see if the warrior would respond. She wanted the truth, as she had always gotten from Izogie without question. She felt a familiar pang of frustration quickly dispel into consideration and concern as she looked at the warriors hand shake as she tried to hide it behind her thigh. She had never seen her shake before. 

“Vǐ ce?” She asked again, softer. She had always felt softened about Izogie but Nanisca had buried her softness a long time ago. Until now. Until Nawi. She internally cursed herself for missing so much that she could’ve had. So much with Izogie, so much with the other Agojie, so much with Amenza - her truest friend, her truest something in so much nothingness she had endured. She often spent time yearning for who she once was, knowing she would have to grieve a girl that never got to exist. She didn’t want that for anybody else, Agojie or not. Responsibility or not. 

Izogie’s eyes traced her arms and the scars that lay on them as she looked for the words to say, the worry of her secret trainings being known to the Miganon sitting in the forefront of her mind. Something else, sitting behind it. She eased a bit as Nanisca called her that word - child. She had not been a child in so long. 

“I… I have been doing some extra trainings, alone. I apologize for keeping it a secret, Miganon. I have felt like I need to improve since the last battle with the Oyo and the slavers. I almost didn’t make it out. I was shot.. twice. And thought dead until Amenza… well you know. What’s worse is I nearly gave up before that.. I nearly let someone else decide my fate. If not for Nawi then…”

Her brow furrowed as she mindlessly brought her palm to one of her newer scars. If you can even call it a scar - it had not yet healed fully. A sometimes dull, sometimes sharp pain sat within the woman’s core and chest, every day.

In the absence of a response from Nanisca, Izogie continued, trying to pull herself together. She cannot slip, not here, not now.

“Then I would be dead. Or worse.”

“I do not want to fail Dahomey ever again. I do not want to fail you, ever again…” She said, meaning it wholly. “An- Anyway, I apologize Miganon. I accept any puni-”.

“I do not train sorry women. I do not welcome home failures.” Nanisca started. Izogie’s eyes darted to the other woman’s eyes, taken aback by the returning sternness, and shock at what she was hearing. 

“You did not die. And when you were taken, you still sought to follow my orders to slit your throat, even in the midst of your own life hanging in the balance. Yes?” She nodded at the warrior, asking more than telling. 

“You fought until the very end, and even further. You would have died anything but a failure. But…I am glad you did not slit your throat. I am glad you are home, here with us. With me…” Nanisca looked deep into her eyes, in a way only a mother could - even if she didn’t know she was a mother, really. Then she looked away.

“But I am not glad that since you have returned, you have not been the honest woman I know you to be. You think I do not know what happens in this palace? That I do not know you are more tired in the mornings than normal? That I do not see the repairs made to the training equipment, or see the blood left behind in the bath? I hear your pain at night when you do actually try to sleep, and I know you do not frequent the healers the way you should be. I hear you telling half truths, Izogie.” Nanisca set her dagger down and walked over to face the warrior fully. 

“I am asking about the cuts on your legs, the scent on your clothes when you greet me. The look in your eyes during the day. It is not just grief that you feel. Am I wrong?”

The warrior was speechless, a new feeling for her. Her head dropped low, examining the soil with her eyes as they welled with hot tears. One fell to the ground between her legs, making the orange soil turn muddy. She fought them with everything she had in her, which didn’t feel like much anymore.

Nanisca knelt next to her, grabbing her face with her fingers softly wiping away a tear or two, and lifting her chin. 

She was softer than Izogie remembered her being. She knew she had Nawi to thank, although she probably wouldn’t.

“Do not bow your head to me like I am nothing more than a commander. In battle, you would hand me the same sword that would keep you alive in less than a thought. You think I would not offer you even my ear?” She seared into Izogie’s eyes with a passion she had not felt with anyone but Nawi. She felt like she was looking at her child, as much as she was looking at her sister and her comrade. 

The warrior sat, silenced by her own mind. She knew what the Miganon was talking about. Her time spent outside the palace lately. Izogie has always been one to do her own thing, but she had never been out so frequently. She had never been secretive with Nanisca, even as a trainee. She always told the truth, loudly and openly for all to see and hear. She had always kept her sworn loyalty, without question and without force. Izogie loved being Agojie, and she respected all the rules that came along with being in the palace. She respected Nanisca, and she loved her. Quietly, underneath her reverence for the Woman King. But this was something she knew even the Miganon could not advocate for, or maybe even understand. She knew it had to be a secret.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth trying to say something. Anything. But the sharpness had returned and she groaned instead.

Nanisca let her face go and squeezed her shoulders tightly as she stood. 

“I will not ask again today. I trust in you the way I trust in myself. I know my own mind so I know yours, too. Do you trust me, Izogie?”

The warrior stood, arm bent over her core.

“I do, Miganon. Without question.”

Nanisca nodded slowly, knowing the warrior meant what she said but also knowing that she was going to keep whatever was going on from her for now. She knew the woman well, and well enough to recognize the look in her eye was as genuine as it was privately holding a secret. She wiped her hands on her tunic to rid of the dust from the ground and prepared to leave, sheathing her dagger. She could forgive one secret, for now, off the respect that this woman died for her daughter and fought to defend for her own life many times before. 

“I do not approve of your trainings.” She said in a voice that suggested she was back to business.

“But I will never take your body from you the way the slavers tried to, the way the Oyo did to me. You will figure it out. I give you two orders, lieutenant. Let yourself heal.”

Izogie nodded her head as she stood at attention. 

“I will be listening when you are ready to tell me the truth.”

She turned to walk away as Izogie stood there, in pain and drained from her training and the workings of her own mind.

“Miganon!” She called after the woman.

“What is the second order?” She asked, eager to please her commander again, not knowing she never stopped.

The Miganon turned only her head for a moment, before turning it back forward as she continued to walk.

“Never bow your head again, not in this palace and not anywhere else.”

Izogie stood there, holding her breath again as Nanisca entered back into the palace walls and about the rest of her business. Once she was out of sight, she sighed deeply and relaxed her arms and shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to make of what just happened but she felt comforted and at the same time, all the more conflicted than before. 

She grabbed her weapons and headed to her chambers to change.

______________________________________________________________

hey y'all, this is my first fic in a long time. its gonna be a short series, so pls lmk what you’re thinking and any feedback you have! (literally I am begging pls) thank you so much for reading 🥹

[jbk405]

Today I was talking to a friend about the MCU, and she said that Wakanda Forever was not up to the level of Black Panther. Hardly a minority opinion. But then she said that the Dora Milaje film was also much better than WF.

At first I couldn't think of what she meant, because there hasn't been a standalone DM film. Until I realized she meant The Woman King, the historical drama based on the Agojie and the Kingdom of Dahomey.

I think this is the second time I've seen this exact same mistake. Where somebody thinks The Woman King is an MCU prequel about the history of the DM and Wakanda.

The Dora Milaje are indeed partially-inspired by the real-life Agojie, but The Woman King film never tries to imply any connection. The fact that this same mistake has happened twice...

[adhdnojutsu]

Aspiring Agojie Nawi & Fumbe from The Woman King. Historical inaccuracies and artistic license notwithstanding, I liked this movie a lot.

[not-active-blacksapphhicmaddonna]

half truths pt. 1

Izogie x Nanisca

Izogie didn't die before the end battle - at least not all the way. She has come back home to the palace, but Nanisca knows she isn't all there. Nanisca knows everything - almost. There's a lot of things both of them haven't admitted, but one seems to be taking a step towards vulnerability while one seems to be fighting some internal conflicts. Izogie is still a badass, though.

Mother/Daughter vibes underneath Commander/Lieutenant pairing. There's a lot of respect, but there's also a lot of love.

content warnings: mentions of wounds/scars, enslavement/enslavers, war/battle, weapons, body parts/physical training. (no fluff or smut stuff yet but it's only part one lmaooo).

Fon to English Translations (these may not be perfect, if anybody has any feedback pls lmk!!!):

Dŏwe - Lieutenant

Vǐ ce - My Child

Word Count: 1,935

I love Nanisca, she's never in any fics so I wanted to start out with her and her relationship to Izogie being developed. There's more to come with her and Amenza, and Nawi as well.

______________________________________________________________

Her eyes were dead set on the pair of strong legs in front of her as she pulled herself up off the ground, again and again - a look of total focus for something far beyond what was before her. Her hands made room for themselves in the hot, burnt orange soil. Her toes bent in, somehow equally as strong as the rest of her body, hinging with her every push.

The sun was just starting to go down, everyone else had finished training that day but the warrior and Nanisca had made a deal to do some extra work to get her back where she was before her injuries. She was lieutenant after all, and despite what happened - she was Agojie. They both were, and neither knew when something else might happen or when new trainees would come. She needed to be ready, they both agreed - despite Nanisca's slight apprehension.

"170...30 more." Nanisca said, rolling the point of a dulled dagger on her finger tip, balancing the blade's end between her other pointer. She knew it was practically nothing for the warrior to complete reps like this, she knew of the long nights and early mornings she spent training in what she thought was secret. Nanisca believed herself to know everything that went on in the palace and within the Agojie. But especially of what her successor was up too. She once did, maybe. But now, she wasn't so sure. She only wish she knew more of what went on in the woman's mind, the place where no one else could see. After so much turmoil, Nanisca felt the need to be more sure now than ever of what was taking place in her orbit.

"10 more. Alternate them." Nanisca coached as she walked behind the woman to check her form from the back, noticing small cuts on her ankles and up her calves. She made note of this, filing it away with the rest of the knowledge she held about what was always going on around her, even if not in front of her. She looked at the woman's arms and shoulders. Her form was perfect, as always.

As the warrior swiftly - precisely - switched arms each rep, it was as if she was holding her breathe. Her core was tight and engaged, her legs never shook like any of the trainees and even some of the other Agojie (to which they tried to hide.). She was always precise, always on time, and always solid.

"You may stop now." Nanisca said, bringing her mind back to focus.

The warrior brought her knees forward and sat down, arms stretching behind her. She caught her breath, in quiet but big gulps.

"Tell me, Izogie, what have you been doing while I am not watching?"

The warrior hiccuped and choked on the air she was attempting to restore rhythm to for a split second, recovering quickly.

She didn't answer, silence sat between them aside from the sounds of Izogie's breath returning to center.

"You have nothing to say, Dŏwe?" Nanisca paused, waiting to see if the warrior would respond. She wanted the truth, as she had always gotten from Izogie without question. She felt a familiar pang of frustration quickly dispel into consideration and concern as she looked at the warriors hand shake as she tried to hide it behind her thigh. She had never seen her shake before.

"Vǐ ce?" She asked again, softer. She had always felt softened about Izogie but Nanisca had buried her softness a long time ago. Until now. Until Nawi. She internally cursed herself for missing so much that she could've had. So much with Izogie, so much with the other Agojie, so much with Amenza - her truest friend, her truest something in so much nothingness she had endured. She often spent time yearning for who she once was, knowing she would have to grieve a girl that never got to exist. She didn't want that for anybody else, Agojie or not. Responsibility or not.

Izogie's eyes traced her arms and the scars that lay on them as she looked for the words to say, the worry of her secret trainings being known to the Miganon sitting in the forefront of her mind. Something else, sitting behind it. She eased a bit as Nanisca called her that word - child. She had not been a child in so long.

"I... I have been doing some extra trainings, alone. I apologize for keeping it a secret, Miganon. I have felt like I need to improve since the last battle with the Oyo and the slavers. I almost didn't make it out. I was shot.. twice. And thought dead until Amenza... well you know. What's worse is I nearly gave up before that.. I nearly let someone else decide my fate. If not for Nawi then..."

Her brow furrowed as she mindlessly brought her palm to one of her newer scars. If you can even call it a scar - it had not yet healed fully. A sometimes dull, sometimes sharp pain sat within the woman's core and chest, every day.

In the absence of a response from Nanisca, Izogie continued, trying to pull herself together. She cannot slip, not here, not now.

"Then I would be dead. Or worse."

"I do not want to fail Dahomey ever again. I do not want to fail you, ever again..." She said, meaning it wholly. "An- Anyway, I apologize Miganon. I accept any puni-".

"I do not train sorry women. I do not welcome home failures." Nanisca started. Izogie's eyes darted to the other woman's eyes, taken aback by the returning sternness, and shock at what she was hearing.

"You did not die. And when you were taken, you still sought to follow my orders to slit your throat, even in the midst of your own life hanging in the balance. Yes?" She nodded at the warrior, asking more than telling.

"You fought until the very end, and even further. You would have died anything but a failure. But...I am glad you did not slit your throat. I am glad you are home, here with us. With me..." Nanisca looked deep into her eyes, in a way only a mother could - even if she didn't know she was a mother, really. Then she looked away.

"But I am not glad that since you have returned, you have not been the honest woman I know you to be. You think I do not know what happens in this palace? That I do not know you are more tired in the mornings than normal? That I do not see the repairs made to the training equipment, or see the blood left behind in the bath? I hear your pain at night when you do actually try to sleep, and I know you do not frequent the healers the way you should be. I hear you telling half truths, Izogie." Nanisca set her dagger down and walked over to face the warrior fully.

"I am asking about the cuts on your legs, the scent on your clothes when you greet me. The look in your eyes during the day. It is not just grief that you feel. Am I wrong?"

The warrior was speechless, a new feeling for her. Her head dropped low, examining the soil with her eyes as they welled with hot tears. One fell to the ground between her legs, making the orange soil turn muddy. She fought them with everything she had in her, which didn't feel like much anymore.

Nanisca knelt next to her, grabbing her face with her fingers softly wiping away a tear or two, and lifting her chin.

She was softer than Izogie remembered her being. She knew she had Nawi to thank, although she probably wouldn't.

"Do not bow your head to me like I am nothing more than a commander. In battle, you would hand me the same sword that would keep you alive in less than a thought. You think I would not offer you even my ear?" She seared into Izogie's eyes with a passion she had not felt with anyone but Nawi. She felt like she was looking at her child, as much as she was looking at her sister and her comrade.

The warrior sat, silenced by her own mind. She knew what the Miganon was talking about. Her time spent outside the palace lately. Izogie has always been one to do her own thing, but she had never been out so frequently. She had never been secretive with Nanisca, even as a trainee. She always told the truth, loudly and openly for all to see and hear. She had always kept her sworn loyalty, without question and without force. Izogie loved being Agojie, and she respected all the rules that came along with being in the palace. She respected Nanisca, and she loved her. Quietly, underneath her reverence for the Woman King. But this was something she knew even the Miganon could not advocate for, or maybe even understand. She knew it had to be a secret.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth trying to say something. Anything. But the sharpness had returned and she groaned instead.

Nanisca let her face go and squeezed her shoulders tightly as she stood.

"I will not ask again today. I trust in you the way I trust in myself. I know my own mind so I know yours, too. Do you trust me, Izogie?"

The warrior stood, arm bent over her core.

"I do, Miganon. Without question."

Nanisca nodded slowly, knowing the warrior meant what she said but also knowing that she was going to keep whatever was going on from her for now. She knew the woman well, and well enough to recognize the look in her eye was as genuine as it was privately holding a secret. She wiped her hands on her tunic to rid of the dust from the ground and prepared to leave, sheathing her dagger. She could forgive one secret, for now, off the respect that this woman died for her daughter and fought to defend for her own life many times before.

"I do not approve of your trainings." She said in a voice that suggested she was back to business.

"But I will never take your body from you the way the slavers tried to, the way the Oyo did to me. You will figure it out. I give you two orders, lieutenant. Let yourself heal."

Izogie nodded her head as she stood at attention.

"I will be listening when you are ready to tell me the truth."

She turned to walk away as Izogie stood there, in pain and drained from her training and the workings of her own mind.

"Miganon!" She called after the woman.

"What is the second order?" She asked, eager to please her commander again, not knowing she never stopped.

The Miganon turned only her head for a moment, before turning it back forward as she continued to walk.

"Never bow your head again, not in this palace and not anywhere else."

Izogie stood there, holding her breath again as Nanisca entered back into the palace walls and about the rest of her business. Once she was out of sight, she sighed deeply and relaxed her arms and shoulders. She wasn't sure what to make of what just happened but she felt comforted and at the same time, all the more conflicted than before.

She grabbed her weapons and headed to her chambers to change.

______________________________________________________________

hey y'all, this is my first fic in a long time. its gonna be a short series, so pls lmk what you're thinking and any feedback you have! (literally I am begging pls) thank you so much for reading 🥹

[madcat-world]

Nanisca - Dananayi Muwanigwa

[theartofcostume]

The Woman King (directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood and starring Viola Davis) is a story about the Agojie, the all-female unit of warriors who protected the African Kingdom of Dahomey in the 1800s. We caught up with Gersha Phillips to discuss designing the costumes for The Woman King, and speak about her research, the process behind the armor, costume breakdown, personalization, and her collaboration with Viola Davis.

INTERVIEW LINK: https://theartofcostume.com/2023/01/18/designing-the-costumes-of-of-the-woman-king-an-interview-with-costume-designer-gersha-phillips/

Photos Courtesy of Sony Pictures Entertainment

[actionflickchick]

The Woman King (2022): Heavy Is the Head (Til It's Decapitated)

Viola Davis stars in THE WOMAN KING. Being a soldier in any army no doubt requires some serious bravery. Surviving to become a middle aged/older soldier means that someone’s not only brave, but skilled and more than a little lucky. In The Woman King, Nanisca (Viola Davis) leads the Agojie, African kingdom Dahomey’s all female branch of their army. She’s survived to middle age in a way few…

[mokhosz]

[panafrocore]

The Magnificent Throne of King Ghezo of Dahomey

King Ghezo’s throne from Abomey, which dates from the early 19th century, King Ghezo’s throne from Abomey is an extraordinary historical artifact that offers a fascinating glimpse into the rich cultural and artistic heritage of the kingdom of Dahomey, which is now present-day Benin. Crafted in the early 19th century, this magnificent piece holds immense significance as a symbol of power,…

[lightdancer1]

Focusing on the Oyo Empire first in West Africa for specific reasons:

Out of the various African states in West Africa and the Sahel to receive more specific focuses, the Oyo Empire comes first for very specific reasons. Not least that it was the established power in the land when Usman Al Fodio built the Fulani Jihad to undermine it out of anger and envy that a proudly and defiantly infidel state had greater power than the Muslim majority around it. Second, that in contrast to the events of The Woman King in actual history it was Dahomey Amazons raiding their fellow pagans in Oyo for the slave trade rather than the other way around.

And of course in the other aspect because Yoruba people, of whom this was their major state, are a key component in the various religions of Voudoun, Santeria, and Candomble and their historical-cultural traditions are key to the African diaspora. Yoruba, Igbo, and Ashanti were among the groups most ravaged by the trade, and for this history 'rewarded' them by making the victims the villains with a straight face.

[ruleof3bobby]

THE WOMAN KING (2022) Grade: C+

Did not need to be 2 hours. 130-140 minutes would've been a sweet spot. Dragged. Good action scenes that were hurt by the overall pace of the film. Felt like it didn't know whether to tell an epic drama or 300 with women.

[genelvavirtualstudio-blog]

Ciné : The Woman King ou les Guerrières du Dahomey [Bande Annonce]

Synopsis : Les Guerrières du Dahomey se déroule dans les années 1800, dans le royaume africain du Dahomey. Le film raconte l’histoire d’un groupe de guerrières courageuses et intrépides qui se battent pour protéger leur royaume contre une nouvelle menace. Menées par le général Nanisca, ces femmes possèdent des compétences et une férocité sans précédent dans le monde. Bande Annonce – The Woman…

[blackexcellence]

#BlackHistory365 Art Round-Up ⬇️

Elsa Soares via @rodrigoincolors

"This is Elsa Soares. She's one of the biggest names in Brazilian music and considered a matriarch of Brazilian black artistry. BBC named her the voice of the millenium and she was one of the most important and loudest voice against racism, LGBTQIA+ and women rights, among other social causes. She's died yesterday at age 91. This is a very simple, but sincere tribute to her. May you rest in power!

Please, listen to her music and search more about this great woman."

2. Portrait of Sarah Forbes Bonetta by Hannah Uzor via @fyblackwomenart

Portrait of   Sarah Forbes Bonetta by  Hannah Uzor

Sarah Forbes Bonetta  was an Egbado princess of the Yoruba people in West Africa who was orphaned during a war with the nearby Kingdom of Dahomey and later became the slave of King Ghezo of Dahomey. In a remarkable twist of events, she was liberated from slavery by Captain Frederick E. Forbes of the British Royal Navy and became a goddaughter to Queen Victoria. She was married to Captain James Pinson Labulo Davies, a wealthy Lagos philanthropist.

3. Marian Anderson by @novva

I’ve always wanted to do a series on black classical singers for BHM, so here’s a sketch I squeezed in this week—a tribute to the great Marian Anderson!

Marian Anderson (February 27, 1897 – April 8, 1993) was an African-American opera singer and contralto. In 1939, after the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to allow Anderson to sing to an integrated audience in Washington, D.C, then First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and her husband President Franklin D. Roosevelt arranged for Anderson to perform an open-air concert on the Lincoln Memorial steps on Easter Sunday, April 9, 1939. She was able to deliver a critically acclaimed performance before an integrated crowd of more than 75,000 people, and a radio audience in the millions.

Read more about her accomplishments here, and donate to the National Marian Anderson Museum here.

Remember: tag your history & trailblazers art with #BlackExcellence365 for a chance to be featured!

And keep your eyes out for next month's theme... 👀

[mes-popcorns]

The French-Senegalese filmmaker Mati Diop has been described as “African film royalty.” Her mother was born in Paris, and worked as a photographer—and once as a Sahara guide—before pursuing a career in advertising as an art director. Her father is a guitarist and composer who emigrated from Dakar to Paris; his jazz-rock fusion band helped to establish the city’s world-music scene. And, if that wasn’t enough, her uncle is the legendary Senegalese filmmaker Djibril Diop Mambéty—who earned a permanent place in the pantheon of world cinema with “Touki Bouki.”

At first, Diop wanted to become a singer-songwriter, training her voice on Aaliyah songs and learning bass in emulation of Meshell Ndegeocello. But by 18 she was thinking about becoming a director. One source of inspiration was a scene of Gena Rowlands dancing in John Cassavetes’s “A Woman Under the Influence,” which showed her how camerawork could expand a performer’s range of self-expression. “I was moved by the space that was made for that woman to be,” Diop told Julian Lucas.

With her début feature, “Atlantics”—a gothic romance, a political fable about labor and migration, and an homage to Dakar, Senegal—Diop won international renown. But she passed on big-budget Hollywood projects (including “The Woman King”) before making her latest film, a fantastical documentary about art restitution. “Dahomey,” which chronicles the repatriation of 26 royal treasures from France’s Musée du Quai Branly to Benin, has reignited a moribund international debate about art restitution and transformed Diop into a French media fixture. “I wanted to make a film that would restore our desire for ourselves,” she said. Read Lucas’s profile of the filmmaker: https://newyorkermag.visitlink.me/Vx_yXq