One of Them Days kicks off when down-on-their-luck best friends, Allysa (SZA) and Dreux (Keke Palmer), are given an ultimatum by their landlord, Uche, to either have their rent by the end of the day or be kicked out of their building. This sets off a cascade of events that sends our protagonists spiraling throughout the day. Beyond the comedic chaos, One of Them Days reflects a troubling pattern in Black American media, the depiction of Nigerians as opportunistic, untrustworthy figures, mirroring deep-seated tensions between Africans and African Americans.
While being a Hollywood production, One of Them Days adopts a Nollywood trope about a stingy landlord who refuses to do anything about the debilitating infrastructure of his building but is hellbent on extracting his pound of flesh from his tenants. The trope is even complete with an Igbo Landlord. It is one thing when Nollywood portrays these stereotypes, it is a different thing when Hollywood does it, especially in a ‘black’ film, now when deeper diaspora tensions continue to go unresolved offscreen.
Uche, played by Nigerian-born Rizi Timane, is very visibly African, or in a better sense of it, audibly African as you can tell from his accent. Uche serves as more than just being an important character pushing the plot forward (and you can tell this if you’re chronically online like me), he is also a vessel used to convey Black American grievances against Africans (Read; Nigerians). He owns a run-down Apartment complex which is not up to code and which he refuses to maintain for his majority Black American tenants. There is no solidarity between him and our protagonist as he insists on the rent without any accommodation for leniency, even as he has an existing relationship with the duo.
Later on in the movie, our protagonists, Dreux and Allysa, find that Uche had gone all out to upgrade one of the units in the complex for the new white tenant (Played by Maude Apatow). In the early scenes, Uche not only bakes cookies for this white tenant (an anomaly per the other characters in the scene), but he’s also okay with her dog defecating in the bushes. This very obvious white worship with disregard for African Americans is something Black Americans bring up during diaspora arguments. Outside of his attempt at gentrification, Uche can be lifted and placed comfortably in a Nollywood plot. Actually, the whole story could be fitted with a Nigerian context and given how typecast Nigerian actors used to be, I can imagine the late Amaechi Muonagor playing this landlord with John Okafor and another comedian playing the other unfortunate friend.
Outside of One of Them Days, Nigerian characters keep popping up in Hollywood productions to not-so-positive light. Take, for instance, another Issa Rae production, Insecure (S04E01), an investor asks Rae’s Character Issa Dee if she’s a Nigerian and then continues to say; I can’t do another scam. Perhaps this is supposed to be a comic moment, but it falls flat on its face. This notion of not doing business with Nigerians because they are inherently scammers is left unchallenged as though there was merit to it. Also, in Zola, we learn rather conspicuously that the pimp/ villain’s name is Abegunde Olawale.
Even shows that aim to portray Nigerians in good light in theory, like Bob Hearts Abishola, occasionally have their pitfalls like how Abishola being portrayed as an ‘uppity’ African who thinks Black Americans are lazy (her words, not mine). Here, the unresolved tensions bubble as usual.
At the other end of the Atlantic, Black American representation has also been a long-standing tradition in Nollywood. Typically, these roles were portrayed by popular non-comedic actors; think Jim Iyke (except of course, Igwe Tupac). For the most part, these characters were mostly used for comedic effect with exaggerated accents, outfits, etc. Luckily, such representations are mostly a thing of the early 2000s and Nollywood representation of Black Americans has evolved to being almost non-existent in our current media.
The thing with media is that media does not just end after people turn off their TVs (or the five hours outside a 19-hour screen time). Some Nigerian kid may have subconsciously formed an opinion about Black Americans being ostentatious from the films they watched with their family in the parlour one night. The same goes for Black Americans and Nigerians (Imagine what white Americans have done to the image of Russians and Mexicans). While both sides show what consistent negative media can do to the psyche of the diaspora, one can argue that it is especially damning for Nigerians given that we are not as economical or even as politically powerful as Black Americans or Hollywood at large. Hollywood’s agenda travels everywhere and so their depiction of Nigerians travels faster than a young Nigerian travelling to an unpronounceable country to hustle.
If you are terminally online like me, then you may have witnessed the constant diaspora battles that occurred when Clubhouse was in its heydays. Accusations were thrown back and forth; Africans (by which Nigerians will suffer most of the brunt of) were accused of not respecting Black American culture, thought of them as lazy, etc. On the other hand, Black Americans were accused of being discriminatory towards other Black people, particularly those who had lived in Africa extensively. It seems now like these conversations, which mostly happened on social media (I can’t now gauge what the situation is like offline) are making their way to other forms of media with wider reach. Diaspora relations have taken a turn from when writers like James Baldwin and Achebe engaged in collaborative conversations or perhaps even a peak in 2021 when being Nigerian was cool (there was even an article in Elle encouraging people to have Nigerian friends) and Nigerian artistes sold out arenas in the West. Now, a persistent unresolved rivalry threatens any future collaboration and solidarity between these communities.
Solidarity is especially important now that Nigeria’s image seems to be taking a hit globally. One can only hope that our brothers at the other end of the Atlantic, who have themselves been at the forefront of negative media stereotypes, can be willing to portray us in a more nuanced light and not as grievances against their own communities. Hopefully, more filmmakers see the need for well-rounded characters that can be achieved through collaboration between communities and not have to rely on one-dimensional stereotypes.
Become a patron: To support our in-depth and critical coverage—become a Patron today!
Join the conversation: Share your thoughts in the comments section or on our social media accounts.
Track Upcoming Films: Keep track of upcoming films and TV shows on your Google calendar.
