

Inevitable, too, are comparisons to the film Get Out, Jordan Peele’s 2017 masterpiece of gaslighting dread, a tableau in which a Black man progressively realizes he’s trapped in a psychological and topographic hellscape engineered by his girlfriend’s white racist family. Here’s a world that juts its narrative chin out in the hallways of Gossip Girl, meeting a more cerebral Riverdale where Josie, not Archie, might conceivably be the main character. A confidently sung confrontation of empire, it is a semaphore of Caribbean resistance, a clear-eyed chant in the face of the insurmountable monolith: a message that a series of small cuts can chop up Babylon.īritish novelist Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé’s debut, Ace of Spades, presents a pair of Black teenage survivors wielding small axes against institutional oppression, their instruments hewn thornily, and not without significant trauma. Though the popular song was released in 1973, the parable goes much further back.

“If you are the big tree, we are the small axe,” is the refrain of Bob Marley and the Wailers’ “Small Axe,” plucked from the roots of a Jamaican proverb.
