Big Sister Zola: A Rewatch of Zola

a psychological thriller

The first time I heard of Zola’s story, I was 19 years old on Twitter. Now, at 25, the film and its thread’s chaotic, candid, and edgy narrative feel less superficial and more layered. I now see a nuanced approach to Black feminist literature and femininity woven into its narrative and film-making.

At 19, the line that resonated most with me was, “Y'all wanna hear a story about why me and this b*tch here fell out?" It felt raw and full of power. I, too, had fallen out with a couple of b*tches. Now, at 25, the line that lingers is, “Who’s looking out for me?” after falling out with a couple more. Its vulnerability speaks to deeper themes of survival and care and, to be frank haunts me.

Zola’s story is that of a sex worker, but it is also an intimate portrayal of a Black woman who becomes a laborer in a world mining her body, mind, and emotions with the depictions of the anxieties and dissociations that accompany that sort of violence. This is portrayed through abstraction and surrealism, as demonstrated through the cut-outs, colorful squiggling lines reminiscent of Microsoft’s sleeping page, Zola’s averted gazes, short responses, and the scenes in mirrored rooms where only her persona and Stefani’s persona exist. The word we don’t hear—or at least I haven’t heard—around Zola is the emotional gymnastics Zola must perform to survive her encounters with X and Stefani. Her preloaded defenses suggest this is neither the first nor the last time Zola has had to tuck herself away to survive.

Zola’s world is focused on making money and utilizing her skills to do so, but the narrative follows her as she navigates a hyper-masculine and exploitative environment. The audience (us) can comfortably keep this environment at an arm's distance, but while the actions may be different, the emotional resonance finds its way into many spaces within “our world”. At times, it teeters over the edge into the manifestation of sexual violence, but more often it exists plainly as emotional and financial abuse. As a Black woman in the arts, I see many throughlines in the character of Zola, portrayed by Taylour Paige.

Stefani, portrayed by actress Riley Keough, mirrors some of the women I have encountered, offering me platforms to advance my career while soon placing emotional expectations on me. “What are you doing this for?” entered the conversation as I tried to establish more boundaries and set clear expectations, only to be told that my approach was unrealistic. I was then met with stories of their expectations, their overdue bills, and their emotional journeys.

Similarly, whenever Zola tries to find emotional distance in the world she is confined to, Stefani’s children, Stefani’s well-being, and Stefani’s comfort are always brought up and emphasized—outside the violence of Stefani’s pimp, who at one point tells Zola, “You are supposed to be looking out for her (Stefani).” Zola’s response, “Who’s looking out for me?” resonates deeply.

Zola’s failures were made out to be her perceived lack of desirability when Stefani was selling cooch for 60 dollars a hit and Zola convinced her to ask for more. For Zola to be used as a pon to buy back Stefani after getting kidnapped by a rivaling pimp.

This narrative becomes even more significant as I reflect on witnessing the Harris administration’s campaign for the presidential seat, as well as the public's responses to a Black woman candidate. The clear expectations placed on Harris—of not only being a leader but also an emotional caregiver AND sex symbol to the interests of all Americans, all global citizens, as well as herself —stand out starkly. I wonder if, like Zola, Harris’s body, mind, and, in some ways, soul were all on the auction block alongside her résumé.

Now looking at Zola, I see not just something for entertainment or consumption- I see a sister. Big sister Zola.