Phumi Tau, formerly Mthembu, is one of the HFPA’s and Film Independent’s Residency Recipients. The South African has produced, stars in, and co-wrote the script for African America. The film is directed by Muzi Mthembu and is available on Netflix.

On a macro level, African America is a socio-political film dealing with Trump, immigration, the American dream, the role of gender in Africa and the issue of gender violence. On a micro level, it’s an entertaining look at a woman finding her voice and determining to follow her dream at any cost.

South African Nompumelelo (Phumi Tau) is about to marry. Following tradition, she sits with the elders before the ceremony, so that they may remind her of the rules for a married woman in Africa: her husband’s word is law. His family pays hers a dowry for the honor of her becoming his wife. The elders reinforce that the mere state of marriage is a desired outcome: getting a husband is a win. That Nompumelelo interrupts this sacred tradition midway, deserting the elders to resolve an urgent work issue, is the first hint that she may not be embracing marriage as the victory that the elders regard it.

When Nompumelelo learns that her mother has previously concealed her acceptance to the performing arts school Juilliard, leaving Nompumelelo to believe that she was not talented enough to pursue her dream of Broadway, she rebels. Every decision subsequent to her believed rejection has been shaped by the idea that she was inadequate. The discovery that she might have had a future in America spurs her to the pursuit of self-actualization and fulfillment – regardless of the consequences.

She flees South Africa for New York, and the dream of her youth. There, the bias and lack of knowledge of what it means to be African is encountered on every front. But ultimately, it is her African heritage that shapes her choices and provides her the ability to survive in the cut and thrust of America.

While some of the tropes of undocumented workers are exposed in the film, it also tells a tale we’ve not seen before – that of an African woman trying to succeed on Broadway, while dealing with being a cultural abnormality.

Anthony Goss poignantly portrays Jaquan, the African American with whom Nompumelelo strikes up an unusual relationship. The film depicts painful discussions between the two leads on the meaning of being an African American as opposed to an African in America.

Packaged tightly without milking moments, the film covers the pursuit of a dream while exploring socially relevant hot topics. The experience provokes discussion.

We spoke to Phumi Tau via Zoom from Los Angeles.

What attracted you to this topic?

I was exposed to a lot of American television and fascinated by the seeming prosperity of America, particular Black America. I aspired to that. I built my dreams around that.

I moved to New York City in 2014 to study musical theater. It was a huge wake-up call. Just like South Africa, America has its challenges. It was a place like any other. I was shocked.

The atrocities on people of color were front and center. I was taken aback by this experience in America. I returned to South Africa, very disillusioned, but also very inspired by the opportunities that were available in South Africa. I wanted to write a story: that it is not so much geography as it is perspective.

One needs to find one’s place in the world; so I wrote African America. It was born from that experience.

One of the benefits of having more voices tell stories, is that in the past, female narratives had very perfect women protagonists, who were very likable. The female protagonist in this story challenges that prototype. Were you pressured to make her more appealing?

(Laughs.) Luckily not. We are privileged to be making films in a time where people are interested in the truth of stories. I was surprised after the film’s release at some of the criticism of the character. She does some unlikable things. We see that in male characters all the time. In movies like The Godfather, they are praised and become heroes. This character makes some bad choices, but I try to bring as much humanity to her as possible. I was encouraged that she had made such an impact. What we were going for was, not so much an unlikable character, but a complex character.

That’s a much more accurate description of her. How did your brother, Muzi Mthembu, a first-time director, get involved?

We’ve been a team since I was born. He’s 18 months older. I learned many of my interests from him. He’s a great singer, artist, incredible leader, with talent and teaching ability. We are best friends. Even though this was a personal journey, he was roped in after I did the treatment.

Initially, the budget was quite large. By the time we began, it was about $100,000. We couldn’t afford a director. Muzi was the natural choice.

As a producer, when I saw the initial footage, I was underwhelmed. If we had a bigger budget, we would have made other choices. Muzi assured me that he would fix it in post – and he did. He threw away the concept of perfection and brought such heart. He got such truthful performances even out of me, using a method I was unfamiliar with. It’s my favorite film because it is so full of his heart.

This film is so topical. Trump, ignorance about Africa, violence toward undocumented workers, bias towards immigrants, towards different customs and cultures. The film opens with a heroine surrounded by elders, talking about how important marriage is. Equating success with marriage. Talk about gender roles in Africa and how it affects your movie.

The film delves into the dowry system in South Africa, a payment being made in order for a marriage to take place. People equate it with the idea that a woman is bought. The male lead at the beginning of the movie feels that he has bought his wife. That is wrong.

As his character evolves, he understands that it is not a “purchase” price, rather thanking the family for raising her, and all the attributes of the bride that the family has collectively put into her, making her the woman she is today.

My hope is that Africans, and non-Africans, realize the essence of citizenship, and of marriage, is not about ownership, but a sense of belonging. It’s not this traditional idea where the wife is subservient to the husband: rather, she is an equal and someone of value. There is no monetary value that you can place on an individual. The practice of the dowry is to show that your child has value. It questions ownership. If I’m going to be part of your family, all of me has to be part of your family. You cannot exclude parts of who I am, in order to make you feel like the man.

“Do you feel like you belong?” It’s a question asked in your film which delicately explores the role of African Americans in America. Talk about that and the immigrant’s dream: that America will fulfill all of your fantasies.

As a Black person, when you hear of some of the atrocities that take place, be it America, Africa, or wherever you are, its heartbreaking.

When we heard what was happening in America with George Floyd, Eric Gardner, and so many others – your heart breaks. We really wanted to reach out. I’d never seen that conversation between an African and an African-American, where “Africa” wasn’t a fictional place, asking African-Americans, if they feel like they belong here?

So many of us wonder what it is like to be in a country where the only reason that you’re in this country for some, is because your ancestors were brought here as slaves. So. Do you feel like you belong? I don’t have an answer for that. In the very same way, for Africans – I am South African, and yet a lot of people who are there, in the land of their ancestors, wonder if they belong in the spaces to which they aspire? In the movie it’s a question from one African to another person – wherever they are in the world. The question is: where do you feel you belong? I hope that someone comes up with an answer to that, but more than anything, I hope the movie says: wherever you go, you take yourself with you. Maybe the answer is more internal than it is geographical.

The movie also talks about the violence towards and exploitation of undocumented workers. You do it subtly, but impactfully.

Although I wasn’t an au pair in NY, I heard such horrific stories of people being exploited because they have no options. My character is blessed. She can return to her country. Johannesburg is not war-torn. So many don’t have an option, so stay and work to put food on the table, to send money back home. In the film when (Nompumelelo) admits she has no work visa, her employees saw that as an opportunity to exploit her.

We don’t have the answers. We don’t want to be didactic. We wanted to speak to it, and bring light to it – the helplessness of that experience.

African America touches on a lot of political themes. My hope is that my character will give others hope. No matter where they are from, what race they are, I hope they never feel excluded from this story. We are all the lead character. We all wonder what to do with our dreams, if it is too late, or if we are worth it? I hope that aside from all the noise and politics, the movie in some way ministers to people, inspires people and reminds them that the grass is greener, where you water it. We hope wherever you are in the world that you will water your grass, because it is worth watering. Yep.