Saidu left his home in Senegal to pursue the elusive promise of a better life in New York—a solitary pilgrimage without the available support of family. He eventually made his way to Harlem, where he now shares a small apartment with three friends who also made the journey. In his first year, Saidu managed to find work as a security guard in Manhattan—one of the many jobs West African migrants often take up as they carve out new lives for themselves in the city.

Harlem stands as a coveted enclave for West Africans, its streets echoing with the footsteps of those seeking the oft-clichéd “better life.” This historic neighborhood has become a beacon for those fleeing the legacies of colonial exploitation in search of new beginnings. Yet the pursuit of a brighter future is often shaped by the very colonial forces that deprived their homelands, echoing the paradoxes embedded in postcolonial migration.

From the mid-20th century, Harlem was a destination for West African migrants driven by political and economic upheavals. The 1950s and 1960s marked a wave of migration, as African nations gained independence from colonial rule. This coincided with the US civil rights movement, which paved the way for the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, lifting restrictive quotas and allowing more migrants from Africa. The Year of Africa (1960), during which 17 African nations gained independence, propelled this postcolonial migration. West Africans were drawn to Harlem not only by its vibrant cultural scene but also by the solidarity found in the Black American community. The migration wave was part of a larger postcolonial movement, with Harlem’s established networks providing a refuge for those escaping economic instability and political unrest. This influx of West Africans mirrored a broader African diasporic pattern to Western cities, influenced by the lure of better prospects but shaped by the harsh realities of the postcolonial era.

The 1970s and 1980s saw a significant increase in West African migration to Harlem. By 1980, the number of African-born individuals in the US had risen to approximately 60,000, with Harlem becoming a central point for this population. The 1990s and early 2000s continued this trend, as Harlem’s African immigrant population expanded. As of 2023, around 30 percent of New York City’s African-born population resides in Harlem, now a nexus for West African culture. To the neighborhood’s cultural legacy of jazz, literature, political activism, and African heritage, the newcomers added their own tangible imprints, establishing mosques, African hair-braiding salons, markets, and community organizations.

New York City’s populace currently faces a new migrant wave, with many newcomers from Mali, Senegal, and Guinea. This spike in migration is driven by many causes, including political instability, economic stagnation, and climate change, which has exacerbated resource scarcity and displacement in the region. Conflicts like the ongoing insurgencies in Mali, along with governmental corruption and unemployment, are pushing many to seek work abroad. With migration routes to Europe tightening due to increased border control, many Senegalese nationals and other West Africans are taking less conventional paths—such as through Nicaragua—to reach the US.

Historically, West Africans, particularly from French-speaking countries like Senegal, sought opportunities in France, the former colonial power. “You have Côte d’Ivoire as a long-standing destination, but otherwise, France and Britain dominated the migration routes,” notes Boukary Sawadogo, writer and associate professor of cinema studies and Black studies at the City College of New York. However, recent shifts have led to a growing number arriving in the US instead.

The stories of migration in Harlem feel cyclical, and the narrative echoes through African cinema. The likes of Ousmane Sembène and Djibril Diop Mambéty immortalized these migration experiences on screen, offering audiences a glimpse into the aspirations and struggles of African migrants. Their films, like Black Girl and Touki Bouki, expose the complexities of migration—the dream of a better life in Western cities often clashes with disillusionment. Black Girl’s Diouana stares out at the city from her employer’s balcony, realizing she’s confined to their home, her migrant dream in shambles. In Touki Bouki, Mory and Anta fantasize about escaping to Paris, but their journey is fraught with obstacles, and in the end, Mory hesitates at the dock, abandoning their plans, the deep tension between desire and reality seeps through the screen.

This continuity is evident in Rama-Toulaye Sy’s 2023 film Banel & Adama, a haunting portrayal of passionate love, suppressed feminine rage, and aspirations for a new life. Banel and Adama are a young couple whose desire to break free from their village life is thwarted by cultural and familial pressures, leading to tragic consequences. Though not directly about migration, Banel & Adama echoes the cyclical stories of African postcolonial cinema. Much like Mambéty’s Touki Bouki, it explores longing and the weight of cultural constraint. Rather than reveling in the possibility of new beginnings, the characters face demise and restraint in their pursuit of freedom, paralleling the migrant’s often unfulfilled dream. The character of Adama can be seen as the archetypal African longing for an illusory freedom—someone willing to risk everything, only to be met with harsh realities. Banel, determined and deeply in love with Adama, succumbs to familial expectations.

Cinema has constructed and reaffirmed the idea that migration sits at the intersection of human suffering and salvation. Films like Banel & Adama, Touki Bouki, and Black Girl illustrate the plight of those who, much like real-life West African migrants, risk everything for a chance at a better life—only to find themselves ensnared by new forms of struggle. These narratives illuminate the diasporic experience, serving as a bridge between personal stories of hardship and the broader sociopolitical context of postcolonial Africa. For the West Africans in Harlem, their experiences are part of a larger, cyclical journey—one that cinema has preserved and dissected.

Traditionally, African cinema has focused on the migration journey and the challenges of integrating into host countries. The narrative often centers on the experiences of migrants as they navigate their new lives abroad. However, since the early 2000s, there has been a noticeable shift in focus towards the experiences of those left behind in their home countries.

This shift brings forth a new perspective: the impact on the families and communities that remain when individuals migrate. Sawadogo describes the modern-day migrant’s dilemma as “the experience of those left behind, and those who come to the US.” A broader narrative evolution in African cinema reflects this duality—where the focus is not just on the migrant’s journey but also on the experiences of those left at home. The experience of wanting to be in one place yet being pulled to another composes the emotional landscapes of films like Banel & Adama, where characters face similar tensions between home and an imagined elsewhere.

Undoubtedly, African postcolonial cinema serves as a mirror, revealing the limits of escape—whether through migration or personal defiance—and exposing the tensions between dreams and reality. As Harlem continues to be a vibrant hub for West African migrants, their stories—like the films that portray them—remain in flux, evolving with each new wave of arrivals. African cinema reminds us that these narratives are far from final. In truth, they continue to write themselves, not only on screen but in the streets of Harlem.