winnieh28

[winnieh28]

Reflect on Walking Awake and Sinners—What Makes Us Human?

This is the last blog of the lecture on Afrofuturism. In this blog, I would like to discuss Walking Awake by N.K. Jemisin and Sinners by Ryan Coogler. They all use non-human characters to explore power, identity, and resistance, despite having very different story backgrounds and styles. They make us consider an important question: What makes us human?

In Walking Awake, humans no longer control everything. The powerful alien creature known as "master" ruled the world. They use human bodies as hosts, depriving people of their freedom and identity. Sadie is a caregiver. At first, she just did things as instructed. But as things were going on, she began to see the pain and injustice around her. She realized that although aliens claimed to be smarter and better, they were cruel and controlling. Sadie chose to fight back, not by violence but by helping others escape. Ultimately, she chose to resist even at the cost of her life. Her bravery shows how powerful quiet resistance can be, especially when it comes from someone who was a silent enabler of a violent system. But her silence is not consent, it is survival.

On the other hand, the vampire in Sinners is not a terrifying monster but a life that longs for the past. In the 1930s, they were drawn to the music of a Black Blues performer named Sammie. His music served as a reminder of the culture, memories, and feelings they had lost. Vampires are not evil. They are sad and long to reconnect with meanings and memories. Through this story, Coogler demonstrated that even supernatural beings can bear the pain of history and the longing for healing. Music becomes a way to bridge time and identity, allowing the past to speak to the present.

Both of these stories use non-human characters to present the real human struggles. Walking Awake shows how the power system deprives people of their identity, while Sinners explores the pain of losing culture and memory. In these two stories, resistance is not only about fighting, but about memories, feelings, and care. These stories remind us that being human has nothing to do with our appearance or background. It concerns the ability to feel empathy, remember, and stand up for others.

Both of these stories demonstrate power in different ways. They make me think more deeply about freedom, culture, and how we define human nature, not only in stories but also in real life. They help us reflect on how systems of control work today, and why empathy and memory are tools for survival.

[winnieh28]

Reflections on the District 9 and Sinners

The two works I most want to discuss for this week's blog are District 9 and Sinners. Both allowed me to explore real-world power through an Afrofuturism lens. Their styles are different, but both attempt to use fantasy forms to reveal oppression in reality.

For me, District 9 at first seems like a science fiction film that attempted to critique racial segregation and xenophobia by using aliens as a metaphor for the oppressed. The film uses the word “prawn” to describe the aliens, which suggests the underclass that feeds on leftovers. As Professor Due points out, what the film does not do well is that it is set in South Africa, a predominantly black country, but focuses on the journey of a white protagonist. This imbalance makes the movie seem less like a critique of injustice and more like a story of a white male trying to save the world. Her analysis reminded me that it's not enough when the narrative's intentions are good, but its impact continues to marginalize the group it advocates for.

In contrast, the Sinners, directed by Ryan Coogler, is more personal and respectful of the history from which it is drawn. It uses the supernatural element of vampires to explore the historical trauma and cultural identity of the black community, showing the core concepts of Afrofuturism. What really resonated with me is that blues music, which is often associated with black culture, is more than just a form of music; it is from an emotional history of grief. To me, the vampires in Sinner don't just steal blood, they steal history and culture.

In addition, the two films show different paths of Afrofuturism in their narrative subjects. The Sinners, directed by black director Ryan Coogler, has actors, cultural backgrounds and plot settings rooted in the African American community, presenting a sense of telling one's own story; whereas District 9, directed by white director Blomkamp, is set in South Africa, but has less direct portrayal of the black characters, and more indirectly through the aliens. 

This difference in perspective determines the intensity of cultural and political expression in the two films.

While both District 9 and Sinner use fantasy narratives to reveal violence and identity exclusion, the former is an external expression of African trauma and realizes criticism through a metaphor, while the latter is more of a cultural echo within Afrofuturism, emphasizing self-expression and historical repair. The two construct the indispensable position of blacks and Afrofuturism, but with different paths and strategies.

[winnieh28]

Reflection on Lion’s Blood

Reading Lion's Blood and listening to Steve Barnes in class has changed my perspective on narrative, history, and Afrofuturism. Before this week, I had never thought deeply about how science fiction can not only imagine the future, but also rewrite the past, forcing us to see the present from a different perspective. What Barnes has done in Lion's Blood is not just to flip characters, but to change the comfort we've been taught to have with mainstream historical narratives.

In class, Professor Due emphasized that alternate history, especially in Afrofuturism, is not about revenge slavery, but rather about revealing systems of power. Barnes did not create an inverted system of slavery simply to shock readers; he constructed a deeply researched, emotionally rich world that maps our own. He points out that it's not just a flip in characters, but a carefully constructed vision of what the world would look like if history changed. If we are disturbed by the scenes of white enslavement in the story, then we should be equally disturbed by what really happened in real life. This touched me deeply. Lion's Blood shows how normalized injustice can become when it is integrated into society and sheltered by groups in power.

What struck me was when Barnes talked about the discomfort he felt when creating scenes of his characters suffering. He said that it's difficult to put characters through pain, and that he's not interested in writing a story that's purely about “revenge slavery”. This reinforced my respect for him as a writer. What struck me most about Prof. Due's discussion was her reminder that stories like Lion's Blood are not just about race but about humanity. Barnes' characters are deeply emotional, conflicted, and complex. He consistently struggles to portray pain without dehumanizing or simplifying his characters. At the same time, Barnes has to think about how to tell the story in a way that still appeals to a white audience. It also reminds me of how many black authors want the stories they write to be embraced and soften the truths they tell.

What resonated with me the most is that Lion's Blood is more than just a flip version of history; it's a challenge in itself. It made me stop seeing history as fixed and instead see it as something that can and should be questioned. It also made me think about the extent to which identity and freedom depend on the person in control of the narrative. All in all, I really enjoyed Barnes's approach to this narrative.

[winnieh28]

Reflections on Spider the Artist

Reading Spider the Artist made me rethink how we define resistance, especially in a world that erases certain people. In class, Professor Due mentioned that this story is not merely about exploring African futurism through robots and dystopia. It regards music as a form of survival, connection, and strength. Just for this reason alone, it is different from many science fiction novels that I have read.

The story tells of a woman in Nigeria who lives near an oil pipeline guarded by robots called "zombies". While these robots were supposed to protect the oil pipelines from damage, they are also violent and unpredictable. The woman's husband abused her, and the world around her was full of dangers, not only from robots but also from humans. But what impressed me most was how music became the way for her to sustain her life. Professor Due played the song "Zombie" by Fela Kuti at the beginning of the lecture, and the lyrics of this song were quoted at the beginning of the story. She explained that this song criticized how the Nigerian government used the military as a tool of oppression, just like unconscious zombies, following orders without a doubt. Robots symbolize militarized state violence and corporate control.

Professor Due also pointed out that this story is political. Nigeria is a country rich in resources, but its people remain poor and oppressed. Robots protect oil pipelines rather than people, which to a large extent, indicates whose life is more valuable. This reminds me that even today, enterprises often protect profits rather than human rights. This reflects the reality of exploitation under the capitalist structure, where robots are merely another form of military power.

Another point we talked about is that African futurism does not necessarily have to occur in outer space, nor does it necessarily have to use high-tech language. Spider the Artist is rooted in local personal stories, but it still looks to the future. It imagines a future where robots exist, but at the same time, it is also a future where emotions, music, and memory remain important. The integration of this future technology and personal healing endows the story with powerful strength.

Spider the Artist reminds me that African futurism is not always about space or high-technology things; it can also be about something as simple as music. Through this story, I saw that art, even in violence, can build unexpected bridges and help people survive.

[winnieh28]

The Plan of Creating My Own Earthseed Community

Two real-life issues that make it necessary to create my Earthseed community are climate change and the widening gap between the rich and the poor. We seek shelter from the collapse of ecosystems that threatens our survival, and we also hope to narrow the wealth gap to create a society where well-being and happiness are accessible to all, not just a privileged few.

Two Earthseed verses that will guide our community are: "All that you touch, you Change. All that you Change, Changes you. The only lasting truth is Change.” “God is Change." These verses remind us that nothing in life is fixed, and we will embrace change as an opportunity for continuous growth in our community. Whether there will be challenges in adapting to new environmental or social dynamics, we will try to learn everything by accepting and shaping change rather than resisting it.

I plan to build our Earthseed community in the Pacific Northwest, near the coast but elevated safely above sea level. This location offers a balance of natural beauty, access to freshwater, fertile land, and a mild climate, making it a strong foundation for long-term survival with the environment.

We will welcome anyone who is passionate, cooperative, kind, and nonviolent into our community. We seek individuals who believe in mutual support and equality. However, individuals who promote violence, prejudice, or exploitation will not be allowed to join, as those behaviors directly threaten the health and safety of the community.

We will use a rotating council system as the foundation for our leadership approach. The council will elect new members each year to represent different working groups, such as agriculture, education, technology, and health. A variety of viewpoints is guaranteed by this arrangement, which also keeps power from concentrating in the hands of a few.

We will develop seed gene editing as our future technology. We will be able to program seeds to produce plants with biological structures that contain embedded knowledge, including farming methods, survival abilities, and medical information. As the plants develop, the community will have access to technology and living knowledge to help with survival and recovery, even during emergencies.

Prioritizing self-sufficiency will ensure the survival of our Earthseed community. We will use sustainable technology to create our food, water, and energy. We plan to center on education and adaptability to ensure that every generation is prepared for the challenges ahead.

To create a better future, we will first set up a free educational facility where all members can receive practical skills, critical thinking, and psychological counseling. Second, we will invest in farming, increasing biodiversity and restoring soil health to ensure that our food systems are sustainable for future generations.

Our Earthseed community will thrive and expand as a result of the shift and a contribution to caring for one another, sowing the seeds for a better future.

[winnieh28]

Spacers, Queerness, and The Feeling of Wanting to Want

I want to begin this blog post by expressing my deep appreciation for what this course has given me—space, not just to read science fiction, but to feel seen by it. I came into class thinking I and Gomorrah by Samuel R. Delany would be just another confusing science fiction story set in a far-off future. The world was strange, the language was abstract, and the characters didn’t seem to care about gender the way we do. But what I found instead was a quiet mirror. As Professor Due said in class, “he called the desire for desire. Like imagine if you didn't feel desire, but you wished you could feel desire.” And somehow, I could read it.

The moment our professor said, “This story is about the desire for desire,” I felt something shocked. The story is strange, genderless astronauts, people called “freelks” who are drawn to the spacers precisely because they are emotionally and sexually unavailable. But once we started reading that dynamic in class, I couldn’t help but think that I’ve felt that before. Wanting something I couldn’t have or being drawn to people who couldn’t or wouldn’t care for me in return. That story, for all its science fiction abstraction, could felt painful.

Then came a moment I’ll never forget. Professor Due sharing: “That was me in my 20s. I was into emotionally unavailable people. That was my whole vibe in my 20s as a way of kind of protecting myself emotionally From a relationship.”  It was honest. And it made me realize this class isn’t just about literature—it’s about the emotional, lived stories we carry in our lives.

Through I and Gomorrah, I saw queerness, loneliness, and othering—things that exist now, just as much as in Delany’s imagined futures. What’s even more mind-blowing is that Delany wrote this in 1967. He was writing queerness into science fiction before there was even language for it. And that’s what makes this story so powerful. It's not loud about race or queerness and it doesn't have to be. It is everything that Delany couldn’t say out loud in his time, and still manages to speak today.

It’s wild to think how much I’ve got through just one short story. And I’m thankful for the course gives us—to read, to relate, and to feel. We don’t always talk about how lonely it can feel to navigate identity and difference. But Delany does. And thanks to this class, now I do too.