Rhys had already been gone by breakfast, though one of his notes had been on a bedside table. Thank you for last night, was all it said. No pen to write a response. But I had hunted one down anyway, and had written back, What do the tattooed stars and mountain on your knees mean? The paper had vanished a heartbeat later. When it hadn’t returned, I’d dressed and gone to breakfast. I was halfway through my eggs and toast when the paper appeared beside my plate, neatly folded.
That I will bow before no one and nothing but my crown. This time, a pen had appeared. I’d merely written back, So dramatic. And through the bond, on the other side of my mental shields, I could have sworn I heard his laugh.
“I’m Zimbabwean American. For me, I grew up knowing the special power of the African. And their powerful expression of self, and how that is not backward. It’s just different from what mainstream shows us. So to see it on this sort of scale, to me, it’s just so ready and so overdue to me. Because that, to me, is what the African is - we’re very underestimated and we’re also underrepresented.”
[Danai Gurira on “How Black Panther is Unlike Anything You’ve Ever Seen”]