In 1918, a Black homesteader turned novelist named Oscar Micheaux was offered a film deal for his autobiographical novel. The Lincoln Motion Picture Company, the first Black-owned studio in the United States, wanted to adapt it. The negotiations fell apart when Micheaux insisted on having a direct role in adapting his novel, something the studio was unwilling to grant. Rather than surrender creative control, he established his own production company and released The Homesteader in 1919. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
That refusal set a pattern that runs through the whole history of the African diaspora on screen. Again and again, filmmakers of African descent found the existing industry would tell their stories badly or not at all, so they built their own studios, schools, and festivals. This fall, the African Diaspora International Film Festival<\/a> returns to New York for its 34th edition, running November 27 to December 13, with a program drawn from exactly that tradition. It is a good moment to trace where the tradition came from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Diaspora communities have always carried stories in songs, sermons, and family memory. Cinema added a record that travels without the storyteller. A film shot in Dakar can be watched in Brooklyn, and a film shot in Lagos can be passed hand to hand in Houston on a cassette. For communities separated by the Atlantic, the camera lets people see each other directly, with no Hollywood or colonial lens in between.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It also mattered who held the camera. For most of the twentieth century, images of Africa and of Black life in the Americas were made by outsiders, often for outsiders. The filmmakers in this story share one stubborn conviction: the people on screen should decide what the film says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Between the mid-1910s and the early 1950s, an estimated five hundred “race films”<\/a> were made for Black audiences, screened in segregated theaters and church halls across the South and in Northern cities. They were produced by dozens of small companies, many of them Black-owned and working on budgets Hollywood would have spent on catering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Micheaux was the most prolific of these producers. He wrote, produced, and directed roughly forty features between 1919 and 1948, and he often sold his films town by town, carrying the reels himself. His work took on lynching, passing, and the hypocrisy of respectability, subjects the major studios would not touch for decades. The archival loss is substantial: only a fraction of Micheaux’s more than forty films survive today, and several exist only in incomplete or damaged prints. The circuit faded after World War II, as Hollywood began casting Black actors and segregated theaters lost their audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next wave came out of a film school. After the 1965 Watts uprising, UCLA’s film program opened its doors to more students of color, and between the late 1960s and the late 1980s a group of African, African American, and Caribbean students produced a body of work now known as the L.A. Rebellion<\/a>. Charles Burnett, Julie Dash, Haile Gerima, Billy Woodberry, and Larry Clark were among them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Their films were slow, observant, and politically direct, made on student budgets with nonprofessional casts, and many began life closer to the short film<\/a> than the Hollywood feature. Three of their works, including features by Burnett and Dash, now sit in the Library of Congress’s National Film Registry. Gerima, an Ethiopian-born director, is a reminder that the movement was diasporic from the start. The group carried the race film idea of self-made cinema into the art house and into the longer tradition of American indie film<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n While the L.A. Rebellion was forming, African filmmakers were building a cinema of their own in the years after independence. Senegal’s Ousmane Semb\u00e8ne, a former dockworker and novelist, is widely called the father of African film, and our guide to African cinema on the rise<\/a> covers his place in that tradition. For this story, the timing matters. After a 1963 short, his 1966 feature became the first fiction feature released by a sub-Saharan African director, and he went on to film in Wolof as well as French. In 1969 he helped found FESPACO in Ouagadougou, which gave the continent’s filmmakers a festival of their own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Francophone West Africa produced most of the New Wave’s festival successes, partly because French cultural funding paid for much of it. Directors of the period were candid about the awkwardness of making anticolonial films with money from the former colonial power. In 1987, Malian director Souleymane Ciss\u00e9 won the Jury Prize at Cannes for Yeelen, marking a historic breakthrough for Black African cinema on the festival’s international stage. <\/p>\n\n\n\n English-speaking Africa took a different route. Britain left behind far less state support for film, so Ghanaian and Nigerian directors in the 1970s and 1980s worked with smaller budgets and fewer festival connections. Ghana’s Kwaw Ansah and Nigeria’s Ola Balogun made features aimed squarely at local audiences, and Balogun worked closely with Yoruba traveling theater companies. That commercial instinct set the stage for what came next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In 1992, a Lagos electronics trader named Kenneth Nnebue had a surplus of blank VHS tapes and an idea: they would sell better with a movie on them. The Igbo-language thriller he produced became the first Nigerian home video to sell like a blockbuster, and its release is generally treated as the birth of Nollywood, even though Yoruba video producers had been working since the mid-1980s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The scale that follows is easy to state and hard to measure. A 2009 UNESCO survey<\/a> ranked Nigeria second in the world by number of films produced, ahead of the United States. The industry’s scale is remarkable, although production estimates vary depending on the methodology used. A 2021 UNESCO report estimated Nigeria’s annual film output at around 2,500 productions, reflecting the extraordinary growth of its home-video industry. The core point stands: data the Nigerian government released in 2014 counted 1,844 films made in 2013, and a 2021 UNESCO report<\/a> put annual output at around 2,500.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nollywood traveled the way diaspora goods always have: in suitcases. Cassettes, then DVDs, filled African grocery stores in London, Houston, and Toronto long before any streaming service took notice. For many second-generation Nigerians abroad, they were the first regular window onto the slang and family dramas of the country their parents left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The African diaspora in the Caribbean and Latin America built its cinema under very different conditions. In Jamaica, Perry Henzell’s 1972 crime drama, shot over several years on weekends and borrowed money, was Jamaica’s first feature film<\/a>. Its reggae soundtrack carried Jamaican music to American and British audiences before most of them knew the genre’s name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In Cuba, the state film institute ICAIC funded filmmaking after the 1959 revolution, and Sara G\u00f3mez became one of only two Black directors working there and the institute’s first woman director<\/a>. Her documentaries about Afro-Cuban religion and working-class Havana asked questions the revolution preferred to leave alone. G\u00f3mez died in 1974 at the age of 31, before completing her only feature film, De cierta manera (One Way or Another). The film was finished by her colleagues and released in 1977, becoming a landmark of Afro-Cuban cinema. Across the region, Afro-Brazilian, Afro-Colombian, and Haitian filmmakers have pursued similar questions, and the overlap with the wider history of Latin American cinema in the US<\/a> is larger than film histories usually admit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For most of this history, the hardest part was finding the films at all, and much of this cinema still lives on festival circuits<\/a> and in archives.<\/p>\n\n\n\nWhy Cinema Matters for the African Diaspora<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
The Early Decades: Black Independent Film in the US<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
The Race Film Era (1910s\u20131940s)<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
The L.A. Rebellion: A New Generation of Black Filmmakers <\/h3>\n\n\n\n
African New Wave: Cinema From the Continent<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Francophone African Cinema<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Anglophone African Cinema<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Nollywood and the Global Rise of African Film<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Caribbean and Latin American Diaspora Cinema<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Where to Watch African Diaspora Films for Free<\/h2>\n\n\n\n