We love to celebrate the strong one. The firstborn daughter who wakes up before everyone, who gives without being asked, who shrinks herself so her siblings can grow. We put her on a pedestal, and then we confuse the pedestal for a home.
Monica is not a film about a woman who sacrificed too much. It is a film about a family that took too much, and never once thought to ask if that was fair. The uncomfortable part is not what happens on screen. The uncomfortable part is how familiar it all feels.
We have all watched a Monica in real life. Maybe we were raised by one. Maybe we are one. That woman in your family who never gets to be the child, who is handed adult responsibilities the moment she is old enough to carry them, who is told her reward is coming, without anyone specifying when, or from whom. The film does not invent this story. It transcribes it.
And then there is Pascal. The man who moved on. Who married Chica, Monica's own younger sister, the same sister whose education, whose future, whose everything Monica had quietly funded with her own deferred dreams. The film does not frame this as a scandal. It frames it as a consequence. While Monica was busy being the family's backbone, life kept moving. It did not wait for her. It never does.
And when Monica finally leaves, not for a man, not for a wedding, but for herself, half the audience called it inspiring and the other half called it selfish. That split reaction is the whole point. We have been so conditioned to see a woman's sacrifice as her purpose that when she stops sacrificing, we call it abandonment.
The question Monica is really asking is one we would rather not answer: at what point does devotion become exploitation? And who in your family would you have to look in the eye to answer it honestly?
13 million views in two weeks. The numbers tell you this story hit something real. The comment sections tell you it hit something we have not fully dealt with yet.
Monica is streaming now on YouTube via Uche Montana TV.