Black AI Creators Are Making Better Movies — Strip Away the Hollywood Names: They're Making Movies From Their Bedrooms You Want to Watch. So Why Are We Still Begging to Be Included In Racist FrameworkX? MENTAL SLAVERY.

Genius-Level AI Movies Made by Young Black Creators Are Evidence That Mental Slavery Still Exists in Our Protest Against Mainstream Exclusion

So what if we're excluded from a reality that we, deep down, tolerate because of its dryness and coarseness at almost every spectrum of society you care to explore—from spirituality to food?

That is the question I keep coming back to.

Coarse mainstream energy needs us more than we need it. So why were we beaten, maimed, and killed for wanting to help sustain a reality that is, in so many ways, coarse to us?

The evidence of mental slavery within the forever-protesting, reactive, goody-goody, beggy-beggy, "massa, I love you long time" Black community becomes difficult for me to ignore when I watch these modern AI films being made by young Black creators from Nigeria, Congo, and some of the most remote places in the world.

I ask again:

So what if we're excluded from a reality that we, deep down, tolerate despite its dryness and coarseness?

Because these young creators are producing things that are genuinely exciting.

If you didn't look at the credits, you'd think some of these films came out of Hollywood. You might assume they were big-budget CGI productions—or at least the work of established studios with enormous resources.

I recently discovered a few of them, and honestly, I think I'm addicted. I can't stop watching.

And somewhere between one film and the next, I had to stop and write this because I genuinely cannot understand why Black people have historically bothered so much—sometimes beyond reason—with being included in mainstream society, particularly white Western society, to the point where we have sometimes risked our lives for that inclusion.

We have been lynched and killed for wanting to live in certain neighbourhoods. We've been assaulted for wanting to participate in societies that supposedly contain everyone.

And even where other non-Black people are welcomed, you can still find Black people being excluded.

Even today.

Where there is no outright public aggression or insult, passive aggression—from childhood through work and into old age—is, for many Black people sensitive enough to demand humanity unapologetically, simply part of the experience.

Look.

It is there.

And you have no right to deny me what I have experienced. I don't care what colour you are.

At some point, I'm like: shut the fuck up, man.

I've felt too much pain. I've been through too much to be told I don't have the right to speak about what I have personally experienced.

But then there's another part of this that I can't ignore.

Look at music. Look at fashion. Look at food.

I've got to be honest: if I don't eat African food at least once a week, I feel sick.

Okay, we can put that down to biological taste, cultural conditioning, familiarity, whatever you want.

But the point remains.

If I don't eat Black people's food, I miss it.

So I cannot understand why someone like me would beg to enter a Michelin-starred restaurant simply because it serves European food.

Yes, I might not like the fact that I'm not allowed in. But it's my money. I'll spend it somewhere else.

Music is the same.

I'm not even going to go deeply into that because it's obvious. I make music. I know what I like.

I can listen to Wagner. I can listen to Beethoven. I love great music regardless of where it comes from.

But could I listen to Wagner for 24 hours straight?

I'd go crazy.

At some point I need Fela. I need Bob. I need Sônia. I need Black music. I need the mixture.

That's the point.

And then, while I'm watching one of these AI films, a clip advertising a Hollywood movie comes on.

I was actually angry.

Even the graphics irritated me. Even the fact that the advert interrupted what I was enjoying irritated me.

I'm sitting there watching this incredibly imaginative AI film and suddenly Hollywood has to enter the room.

LOL.

And that's what finally made me write this.

Because I'm sitting there thinking: wow.

All these directors Hollywood constantly tells us to worship—Stephen this, John that, John this.

I'm sorry, but I don't get the hype.

The excitement I feel watching these AI films is completely different.

I'm watching and thinking:

What's going to happen next?

What's going to happen next?

What's going to happen next?

I don't want it to end.

It's a twenty-minute short and I'm wishing it were an hour.

Two hours.

And there you have the Hollywood comparison.

You can have a two-hour Hollywood movie made for $200 million, packed with famous actors and a famous director, and I can fall asleep halfway through it.

Why?

Because sometimes there is simply no soul there.

If we could sit down with a psychoanalyst—or Freud, or somebody interested in mass psychology—and examine the attention we give to Hollywood, I think part of the answer would be tolerance.

Not necessarily quality.

Tolerance.

"This film was made by that famous director."

"That huge actor is in it."

"That studio spent $200 million."

"That person won an Oscar."

So we tolerate it.

That's what people are watching.

Strip away the names.

Strip away the famous actors.

Strip away the famous director.

Strip away the studio.

Strip away the prestige.

What's left?

Sometimes, there's nothing there.

That's my point.

I'm writing this on 31-08-2026 at around 19:28, with Notting Hill Carnival happening right outside my house.

There are huge crowds outside—thousands upon thousands of people dressed up, dancing, drinking, celebrating, doing their thing.

And I'm sitting here watching an AI movie made by a kid from Nigeria, or Congo, or somewhere else in Africa, and I'm completely absorbed.

Don't call me a loser.

I'm making a point.

I'll still go outside. I'll still rave. I'll still enjoy the carnival.

But I don't need Hollywood to validate the experience I'm having in my own room.

And that is where I think the deeper question lies.

AI movies made by young Black and Indigenous talent are evidence that mental slavery can exist even within our protest against mainstream exclusion.

We can spend generations demanding entry into somebody else's house while simultaneously building something better in our own.

Maybe the question isn't simply:

"Why won't they let us in?"

Maybe sometimes we should be asking:

"Why do we still want to go in?"

Because what we create can be better.

What we create can be more exciting.

What we create can have soul.

What we create can speak directly to us without asking for permission.

And none of that means we should accept discrimination.

None of it means we should tolerate racism.

None of it means people should be denied housing, employment, education, safety, or basic human rights because they are Black.

Nobody should have to die, be assaulted, lynched, beaten, or humiliated for wanting human rights.

But perhaps we need to separate two things that we have confused for too long:

the right to enter someone's world, and the need to belong to it.

We absolutely have the right to demand equality.

But we don't have to spend our lives begging for validation from a world that has repeatedly shown us that it does not value what we bring.

We can build.

We can create.

We can eat our food.

We can make our music.

We can tell our stories.

We can make our films.

We can make something so compelling that we stop asking whether they will let us in.

We don't need them.

Maybe they've needed us all along.