In 2020, at the height of an already too-intense summer, we set out to make the short documentary “Ampe: Leap into the Sky, Black Girl” as a rhythmic love letter to Black girlhood and means to recenter joy and community. Born of labor, love, and a trail of questions about Black girlhood, the film focuses on the game ampe, calling forth the mundane yet formative experiences we share.
Ampe is a high-energy game played by girls in Ghana, West Africa, and throughout the African diaspora. It includes jumping, clapping, and all-around cheer and hype as two teams select a stepping pattern and face-off. The teams have leading players, referred to as “mothers,” who start the game and encourage players to compete at their best. The innate joy and competitive edge of ampe reveal the desire that Black girls have to be set free and feel a range of emotions without judgment.
Our initial idea to create this documentary film came out of an impromptu ampe match at a park on the East side of Columbus, Ohio, where we gathered with a group of friends for a picnic. With each clap, kick, and jump, the two lines of girls closed in, eagerly awaiting their opponent’s next move. The air was full of friendly competition — the kind that lingers between close siblings or old neighbors; and in the underbelly of the chaos and emphatic joy, there was at once a deep sense of sisterhood, loyalty, and a poignant realization of how much time had passed since we were last these girls.
As longtime collaborators, friends, and Columbus natives, we have longed to depict and represent our immigrant community. Columbus is home to over 10,000 Ghanaian immigrants and stands as a sister city to Accra. By intercutting the stories of Ghanaian girls in both cities, blending the echo of their voices and the chorus of the streets, we establish ampe as a coming-of-age ritual across the African diaspora, memorializing its impact on the way young Ghanaian women view themselves, each other, and the world around them.
While working on the film, we sought after our own mothers’ experiences of the game. Ife’s mother shared memories of playing ampe, or ten ten, in the streets of Ekiti state, surrounded by the whirling breeze of midday traffic. Claudia’s mother went into stories of crowded parks, teams of girls lined up for miles, using ampe as a means to escape house chores and responsibilities. We both came into production with our newfound fascination with the game, bonding with cast members in between takes, staggering into the sky, and hesitating before throwing out a sharp leg.
Since then, we have had the opportunity to premiere the film internationally, sharing in the perseveration of Black girlhood through the lens of play. With each audience screening, it becomes clear that playing ampe reunites us with the childhood that we have left behind, especially as we come into new versions of ourselves as young African women. We understand that play is about more than just entertainment. It is also about safety, security, and connection in a space created for us, by us.
At a recent screening in Columbus, an audience member questioned when and why Ghanaian girls stop playing ampe, and the factors that contribute to that choice. Her voice carried wonder and concern; and as we thought it over, a member of our Columbus cast, Nives Quaye, answered naturally: “You never really stop playing ampe. You just need someone to ask you.”
It made perfect sense! This currency of invitation. This is what we sought to do with our film: implore Black girls to take up the cause of play; to hold on as long as we can and revive that hope of girlhood. Not only for ourselves but for those who will come after us. During the course of production, we interviewed women in their late 50s, girls in their early 20s, and girls in their early teens. The latter are the most innovative in their thoughts and expressions around ampe, remixing old chants and inventing limitless lives for the role of the mother.
It was fascinating to witness the look of confusion and pride on the face of the early 20-something-year-olds, looking on at a game that had once been theirs alone. There is a color to how each generation carries the mantle: the young girls are bold and assured; the older, passionate, and contemplative. This is what we all bring, a matter of care and level ground, to which one of our Accra subjects, Samuella Graham cautions: “The person you [may be] looking down upon is the one who is going to bring the magic that you are looking for.”
It has been magical to see our film received by audiences throughout the diaspora.
We recently returned from a series of summer workshop screenings in Accra, where we partnered with women-focused non-profits Black Girls Glow and Power to Girls GH to empower Black girls and women to document stories in their communities and allow Black women to gather and connect to their girlhood.
After screening at festivals like New York African Film Festival, Urbanworld, Essence Film Festival, Flatpack Film Festival, and more, we are headed to the BlackStar Film Festival on August 2nd and 6th; the Trinidad & Tobago Film Festival in September 2023; and Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival on October 20th.
We plan to continue to work with organizations to facilitate screenings and workshops alongside an “Ampe” zine workbook we created. The zine comprises reflective questions with behind-the-scenes footage and added history of ampe, that we will place in community libraries and academic institutions.
In ampe, there is a place for every girl. A generative, truthful, authentic, guiltless place, resetting the lines for how we know ourselves and how we come to know each other. Let there be picnics. Let there be play. Let there be endless lines, girls windswept and eagerly awaiting their turn. Let there be careless abandon.
Stay updated on the film’s journey and contact us for screenings and collaborations at: ampefilm.com
Follow us on Instagram: @ampestudyfilm
Check out the “Ampe” Trailer: