‘Black Girl’: Ousmane Sembène’s groundbreaking study of postcolonialism and womanhood
Ousmane Sembène is often labelled as the father of African cinema, yet his work remains criminally underrated on a broader scale. Perhaps this is due to his fearless approach to topics that have made many mainstream audiences uncomfortable, largely focusing on postcolonial themes. His directorial debut, Black Girl, remains his best work, although it was not initially received as positively as it is now.
It’s no secret why many white audiences were quick to dismiss the film – it’s a confronting and unforgiving work revolving around a Senegalese woman who moves to France after a rich couple employs her as a nanny. Upon her arrival, excited to be given a chance to earn money and explore a new environment, Diouana quickly realises that she has not been given the freedom she was anticipating.
Senegal gained independence in 1960, just six years before the release of Black Girl, but the conditions facing Diouana are examples of continued white supremacy and racism, with her employers, a French couple, treating her like a slave. She becomes an object to be bossed around and treated with little empathy, and Sembène explores the effects of such treatment by highlighting Diouana’s declining mental state. As the film unravels, Diouana’s life becomes more and more oppressive as she faces the colonial attitudes of Madame, Monsieur and their friends, who put her to work as a cleaner, a chef, a waitress and a personal servant.
In one memorable scene, Diouana serves food to a table of Madame and Monsieur’s dinner guests, who practically marvel over her, treating her like an exotic rare creature rather than a human being. One man is clearly impressed by Diouana’s appearance and asks if he can kiss her cheek, remarking, “I’ve never kissed a Black woman!” to the rest of the table.
Diouana has a vacant look on her face, as though she is trying to block out his gross charm, making herself impenetrable. As he kisses her cheek, a woman says, “I’ve got a feeling she’s angry,” as though Diouana isn’t even in the room. She knows that Diouana won’t say anything, and she doesn’t, but not necessarily out of fear. The protagonist remains quiet, plotting her final escape from their oppression, which occurs in the final act.
Black Girl demonstrates the detrimental effects of colonialism by focusing specifically on the experience of one individual. Diouana can’t escape being treated like a lesser being, even in a private sphere where people are supposed to receive shelter from the outside world. There is no escape for Diouana, who angers Madame just by existing as another woman in their shared domestic space. All of Diouana’s hopes and dreams for a promising life following Senegal’s independence come crashing down as she is forced to scrub, polish, peel and stir, wearing herself out to meet Madame and Monsieur’s needs, who refuse to pay and feed her if she doesn’t perform her servant role.
As Diouana, Mbissine Thérèse Diop is perfect. Despite the role being her first, Diop fully embodies her character, expressing the painstaking feelings of confinement, both mentally and physically, through studied facial expressions and restraint.
Another key moment occurs when Madame tries to take Diouana’s traditional African mask from her. Although Diouana had initially given it to the couple as a gift (which they displayed on the wall as though it was something exotic – a symbol of worldliness to show off to their friends), her retrieval of the mask is an act of reclamation. She narrates a voiceover in the aftermath of the struggle, “Never again will mistress scold me.” In an impassioned tone, she continues listing the various tasks she will no longer be forced to do, ending her speech with a bold declaration: “Never will I be a slave.”
The film ends with tragedy, but the final scene, with Monsieur taking the mask back to Senegal, reflects his white guilt, something he’s only been able to come to terms with following a catastrophic incident. Black Girl isn’t easy to watch, but at just 55 minutes, there’s no reason not to watch such a vital piece of African cinema.
