Having watched the trailer of the movie, I prepared myself for two hours of ostentatious Black pride and a simple underdog story. I could not have been more wrong. Ten minutes in, one can already relate to Akeelah: her ability to spell both intimidates and fascinates, and in this fascination her classmates (inner city Blacks) laugh, tease, and bluntly pound on her. The progression lies next. Akeelah’s talent for spelling leads her to success when her principal signs her up for the district bee, and upon winning, gains respect from her classmates. Yet, her triumphs are belittled by family and social tensions at home. Her mother is unwilling to lose another child (Akeelah’s brother regularly engages with a gang), and fears for Akeelah’s well-being in a contest designed for “rich, white kids that will tear up a Black ass like yours”, as her brother humbly states. Akeelah ameliorates her problems by seeking esteemed English professor Dr. Joshua Larabee, as a spelling tutor. And with his help, she manages to place in the contest, and is qualified for the state spelling bee. After persuading her mother for permission, she manages to qualify for the national bee.

Now, the beauty lies here: Akeelah’s actions sends her spinning into the community’s perversions, expectations, and more importantly, her own feelings of ineptitude and inferiority. Her coach fires himself as Akeelah painfully reminds him of his deceased daughter. Akeelah’s best friend Georgia, whom is jealous of Akeelah’s attachment to her Woodland Hill friends, shuns the speller. And the community’s hopes and expectations of Akeelah weigh down on her, causing her to break down and want to “give up so I don’t disappoint them.” And here, Akeelah’s mother assuages her by exploring her own insecurities and failed ambitions, saying, “You’ve practically got fifty-thousand coaches if you just look around”, and, most importantly, assuring her love for Akeelah. She then plucks a vocabulary flashcard and tests Akeelah. Akeelah smiles. They laugh.

And from there, Akeelah finds a coach in every member of her dysfunctional community. Teachers, her family members, storekeepers, even notorious gang members, all make time to test Akeelah. She gets her community to laugh and work together, pushing aside the inner city depiction painted an hour before. And eventually, Akeelah lands on Dr. Larabee’s doorstep, proclaiming, “I’ve memorized all the words…all four thousand of them.” She asks him about his daughter Denise, and when he breaks down, she relates her own pain of losing a father. “I spelled,” she said, to ease the pain.

My favorite scene is the end, where clips swiftly shift to spell P-U-L-C-H-R-I-T-U-D-E. In every clip, her friends, family, and neighbors all support her, and that’s the beauty of it. A spelling bee uniting a community. A girl manifesting pulchritude.