I can remember an episode of ‘Chappelle’s Show’ (a sketch series that offered some valuable commentary on race and race relations in America) where Paul Mooney says, “Everybody wanna be a nigga, but nobody wanna be a nigga.” How does this seemingly crude sentiment translate to reality? to a social framework? To color? What he means is this: being Black is still considered “cool” and trendy by some, and it can be a mark of power and subversion. On the other hand, those who find race to be an accessory are more than happy to avoid the consequences and negative stereotypes associated with blackness, such as prejudice and discrimination. ‘Dark Girls’ investigates what causes colorism, how it’s begun to poison Black women, and how Black communities can heal from it.
I can remember an episode of Chappelle’s Show (a sketch series that offered some valuable commentary on race and race relations in America) where Paul Mooney says, “Everybody wanna be a nigga, but nobody wanna be a nigga.” How does this seemingly crude sentiment translate to reality? to a social framework? To color? What he means is this: being Black is still considered “cool” and trendy by some, and it can be a mark of power and subversion. On the other hand, those who find race to be an accessory are more than happy to avoid the consequences and negative stereotypes associated with blackness, such as prejudice and discrimination. Dark Girls investigates what causes colorism, how it’s begun to poison Black women, and how Black communities can heal from it.
A 2011 documentary, Dark Girls details colorism in America, particularly amongst the Black female population. Since learning about this phenomenon in college, I’ve been fascinated by this idea that the darker your skin, the more poorly you’re potentially treated not only in America, but across the globe. Dark Girls touches on stereotypes such as dark-skinned girls coming from impoverished communities, or even simply having too much “attitude.” The film is a touching and inspiring examination of blackness, with layers of social and psychological insight, culminating in a poignant conclusion that urges dark girls to “rise,” to reclaim what’s been forgotten, oppressed, or effaced.
Before I evaluate or scrutinize anything: I don’t know the Black experience firsthand. I’m not Black, so I always approach the subject of race with caution. Watching this film won’t make me “get” the Black experience, and neither will reading Malcolm X or watching a Tyler Perry film. It’s insulting and reductive to assume that we can absorb the struggles of an entire people simply by exposing ourselves to a piece of art or media, such as a dramatic performance or a book of poetry–these things must be lived. To reduce a whole race to a 70-minute film like Dark Girls is to limit ourselves. In short, I admire Black women and the strength they embody, I find “ethnic” hair aesthetically pleasing, and I’ve dated Black and Hispanic men who were absolutely guilty of practicing colorism.
In the opening scene, a little girl tells us that she doesn’t like to be called “Black” because she’s not: a nice preface for the negative connotations we can attribute to that one word. Several people interviewed, most of them psychologists, explain the “paper bag test,” which dictates that if your skin is lighter than a brown paper bag, you’re considered beautiful, but if you find yourself darker than the bag, you’re dark and unattractive, and thus undesirable. This seems an unnecessary exercise in masochism, but hey, women also have the “pencil test,” which lets us know if our boobs are too saggy to be considered sexually attractive (see Breasts, another great documentary where women are interviewed topless). How very queer to think of mundane items like pencils and paper bags as tools to assess we all are or what we’re worth.
A drawing that reflects such tragic self-doubt at a surprisingly young age.
One psychologist explains that Black women who experience insecurity about their color cannot count on Black men to “liberate” them from this “slave mentality”: that lighter-skinned Black women are more desirable than dark Black women. Those of us who saw Django will recall that Broomhilda is light-skinned, which meant that she was a house slave (or a “house nigger”); darker slaves worked largely in the fields since they were considered less valuable or unpleasant to look at. This observation brings to mind the popular idea that “good” black men are difficult to find; one participant even explains that she knows black men must exist who are capable of giving her a family and a pleasant life, but she fears they all must be in prison.
Black women are generally insulted when Black men declare their romantic and sexual preference for white women.
To help offset some of the negative commentary in this short film, we meet many articulate and upfront men who explain that they actually prefer dark women for a variety of reasons: Black women are sexier or have nicer skin, dark-skinned men want dark babies with other dark women, and even “the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice.” Whether or not we agree with any of the men interviewed, we have to appreciate their honesty and willingness to share their feelings about race, color, and Black women on camera. Some Black women we meet speak to the sexualization of their bodies and their refusal to allow men of any racial background exoticize their skin color. Some of these women also report that while Black men reject them, white men revere them and their blackness. While much of this film focuses on racial issues in the United States, it discusses the global prevalence of colorism in countries where we wouldn’t expect such behavior, such as Thailand or the Gambia.
Actor/Comedian Michael Colyar says, “I really believe everybody wants to be Black except Black folks,” a thought that echoes Paul Mooney’s. The Black experience seems to be coveted and glamorized, despite the knowledge that racism runs rampant. “They call us colored–but–but–but we always our color, whatever color we are, if we come out, we brown, we always brown, we end up brown. White people, when they’re born, they’re pink, when they’re mad, they’re red, when they’re cold, they’re blue, when they die, they’re gray. Them the colored people!” Clearly, Colyar offers some much needed humor to an otherwise sober look at colorism and what it means to be a dark woman. Just as Chappelle’s Show utilized humor to diffuse the racial tension it unveiled, comedy seems to be the most effective antidote (besides education!) when combating everything from racism and misogyny to political strife.
Dark Girls also references the absence of dark-skinned people on television; it’s this invisibility that suggests that these people don’t exist for the rest of us. Colyar goes on to say, “Usually when you see Black people on TV, we’re on our way to jail or we’re rapping or we’re in sports. You don’t get to see us in a positive light continuously.” Colyar’s astuteness here demonstrates just how both racism and colorism are perpetuated quietly via our seemingly innocuous television sets.
This woman used to worry that her children would be too dark, but tearfully says that she now loves her beautiful “chocolate baby.”
We come full circle as the documentary ends with the same little girl from the opening scene, the beautiful little girl who already struggles with her skin color, believing that Black equates to “bad” and “ugly” while white equals “good” and “pretty.” This girl represents future generations of dark girls who will hopefully embrace their color and challenge Western beauty ideals.
“My mommy and daddy say I’m beautiful.”
Colorism seems to be a misguided attempt to better understand your own self-appointed rank of blackness while belittling others in the process. This practice is maybe prevalent amongst the Black population due to a lack of self-esteem, one’s own self-loathing, or misdirected anger that is perhaps meant for hegemonic masculinity or non-Black cultures. Because women and Black people are still oppressed, it’s especially problematic when Black women become oppressors of one another; solidarity, at times, can be an illusion if colorism continues within Black communities. While the little girl we meet–perhaps unnamed because she represents every dark girl everywhere–relies on her family to encourage her, we should all be cognizant of our own inclination to attach negative stereotypes to something as superficial as color. I was glad to see that Dark Girls concludes on a hopeful note: that you are not beautiful in spite of your color, but beautiful because of it.
Jenny holds a Master of Arts degree in English, and she is a part-time instructor at a community college in Pennsylvania. Her areas of scholarship include women’s literature, menstrual literacy, and rape-revenge cinema. She lives with two naughty chihuahuas. You can find her on WordPress and Pinterest.
A lot has been written recently (this week) about ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’ This is strange, in 2014, because it’s a show that we’ve all stopped watching at least as many times as we’ve begun again. But for all the talk about the lack of diversity, the lack of female characters with volition, and the heyday for feminism happening now on TV, ‘Grey’s’ stands out as a show that was ahead of its time and as one that has endured. The three top surgeons at the show’s conception were African Americans. Female doctors seem to outnumber male ones and nobody in the world of the show finds that remarkable. But I do.
This is a guest post by Allie Esslinger.
A lot has been written recently (this week) about Grey’s Anatomy. This is strange, in 2014, because it’s a show that we’ve all stopped watching at least as many times as we’ve begun again. But for all the talk about the lack of diversity, the lack of female characters with volition, and the heyday for feminism happening now on TV, Grey’s stands out as a show that was ahead of its time and as one that has endured. The three top surgeons at the show’s conception were African Americans. Female doctors seem to outnumber male ones and nobody in the world of the show finds that remarkable. But I do.
I am the founder of a film start-up that sits at the intersection of two male-dominated, whitewashed industries. Basically described as a Netflix for Lesbians, Section II acquires and creates lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and questioning (LBTQ) content for our multi-platform network of streaming and VOD channels, which launched last month. We talk about #BetterRepresentation of LBTQ women in popular culture a lot—it’s actually written into our bylaws as a Benefit Corporation.
I remember the early reviews of Grey’s that touted its color-blind casting, its unique brand of post-feminism, and its “Surgery is The Game” competitive mentality. But as I’ve gone back to revisit the early episodes this summer, what’s left me cold is the disconnect I feel watching so many typically marginalized characters operate in a world that itself doesn’t seem to have margins. That said, what Shonda Rhimes has done for improving visibility for minorities and women on television cannot be understated.
It’s a long-play to shape popular culture and consciousness that we believe in whole-heartedly at Section II, but the reality is that Rhimes was the only African American show runner to anchor a dramatic series on primetime when she was hired, and she still is, 10 seasons later.
The Grey’s Anatomy I know and love(d) is not the textbook after which it takes its name, but we still could learn a lot about the very real struggles of minorities and women rising to the top of their field from a show created by a room full of writers who have done just that. I am certainly not suggesting that every season needs an arc with a superseding minority struggle and/or triumph, but at least show me an episode every once in a while in which Meredith and Christina (friends who actually define their person-hood through each other) both apply for a fellowship/promotion/major award but only one of them wins— because, in reality, only a limited number of women ever win. I need more realism about the underlying competition between female friends and coworkers from a show that so acutely examines their careers. That the signs of social advancement it presents are “a given,” without fanfare or comment, is a bit of a let down.
Shonda Rhimes
We believe at Section II that #BetterRepresentation goes beyond a numbers game, beyond visibility. Increasing the volume of strong women and strong female characters in Hollywood is important, but it won’t change the system. It hasn’t changed the fact that the number of women each year who get to be a showrunner, to write and direct feature films, continues to decline, despite overwhelming data advocating for a more economical supply and demand chain. We can only make new space for people when we make a new system, and that’s what we should be doing. That’s what we are doing.
Our name comes from the clause in the Motion Picture Production Code that outlawed homosexuality onscreen until 1968. Our model is based on being an ally to both the producers and consumers of LBTQ content and building an ecosystem that supports the entire production process as well as the people going through it.
Addressing the issues of representation begins in development and that’s why we co-produce projects as well as distribute them. There is a lot of opportunity right now to re-define how people consume content and, as a distribution platform, we are tasked with making it the best possible experience for both content creators and consumers.
Yes, there are a lot of reasons that have led people to turn away from Grey’s Anatomy over time. (Can you still pass the Bechdel Test if a conversation starts out about a heart transplant but winds up being a metaphor for moving on after a breakup?) But it celebrated its 200th episode last fall, and Shonda Rhimes now controls an entire night of ABC’s programming schedule. Those are the official reasons that I decided to go back to the beginning and re-watch the series this summer.
I went back to find the show that I miss, that game-changing series I truly believed in and that I honestly felt was good when I was in college. It’s still there, especially in the first 8 episodes on Hulu+. When I started, I wanted to understand what I’d stopped being a part of off-and-on throughout the years. But what I realized is that in the time since Grey’s Anatomy premiered, I changed, the tone of the show changed, and most importantly, the idea that #BetterRepresentation is for all of us, not just minorities, has changed. A night of Shonda Rhimes on network TV is one example of a system that’s improving. But we have the chance to create others. It’s time, now, for technology and content to merge together and foster creativity as the next step in the fight for equality and the ongoing fight for better representation. The game is changing again– join us.
Allie Esslinger is a Southern transplant living in Brooklyn. She has produced projects across genres and formats and recently founded Section II, a new streaming platform and film fund for LBTQ content. (Think: Netflix for Lesbians.) She studied International Affairs and Creative Writing and loves television, iced coffee, and Alabama football.
BET’s Black Girls Rock! Awards ceremony last week was a magnificent and much-needed celebration of the social and cultural achievements of Black women: in politics and sport, music and local activism. It’s absolutely disgusting that such an important and wonderful event was marred by white racism.
BET’s Black Girls Rock! Awards ceremony last week was a magnificent and much-needed celebration of the social and cultural achievements of Black women: in politics and sport, music and local activism. The ceremony is a 90-minute showcase of monumental talent, guts, and determination among women of color, and it’s absolutely disgusting that such an important and wonderful event was marred by white racism.
FACT
As a white person watching this event, what struck me most was this: These women were not addressing me. Although I’m trans and queer, I otherwise fall into the coveted “white males aged 18-35” demographic, and all mainstream media content is aimed squarely at me. Our society demonstrably:
And then turns around, smiling sweetly, and claims to be “post-racial.” In this environment, only the most assimilationist and unthreatening of Black voices are given a platform. Will Smith stars in bootrstrappy neocon fairytales. Crashpasses for nuanced discourse around race in Hollywood. Kanye West is ridiculed for publicly speaking truths about racism in the US.
There’s an ugly mass silencing of Black voices in white America. That’s what makes Black Girls Rock! so necessary and so compelling.
I LOVE YOU, JANELLE MONAE
I’m a white guy, surrounded by white privilege the way I’m surrounded by air, so I didn’t start watching the show for its political content, but out of sheer narcissism: I was at the taping of the opening performance by my beloved Janelle Monáe, and I just wanted to see my own face on TV (you get a split-second glimpse of me at the end of Monáe’s song). I kept watching because it is so unusual for me to witness people of color talking in this way – to, from, and for their community. The women onstage were talking about the intersectional web of systemic and individual oppressions faced by Black women in America, and they were doing this in the context of an awards show. As an avid Academy hate-watcher, I’m accustomed to treating awards shows as the smarmy, self-congratulatory industry circle-jerks that most of them are. This, though! This was a genuinely uplifting celebration of legitimately inspiring work by truly awesome individuals.
Here was the incredible Marian Wright Edelman, Mississippi’s first African-American woman lawyer and a tireless activist for underserved children even well into her seventies.
I LOVE YOU, MARIAN WRIGHT EDELMAN
Here was anti-violence activist Ameena Matthews, speaking so powerfully about being a Black Muslim woman that she gave me chills.
Here was TV writer Mara Brock Akil, declaring, “Black women, even if nobody else sees you, I SEE YOU.”
Here was Misty Copeland, a Black woman dancing classical ballet with otherworldly beauty.
Here were three astonishing young women who have made astounding contributions to local activism in their communities, including one little girl who created her own (female, Black) superhero to combat pollution.
As Awesomely Luvvie put it, “Every moment felt like a highlight.” Amber Riley, Queen Latifah, Venus Williams, and Jennifer Hudson were among the stars present, and pretty nearly everything about the show was wonderful. Talented, tireless African-American women were lifting one another up instead of being forced to cater to white supremacy, and it was beautiful.
This is the ugly reality of racism’s MO in US society. Staggering forces operate socially, economically, politically, and culturally to maintain white supremacy in every arena, and if everpeople of color do something that is not directly and primarily aimed at perpetuating this, white people start accusing them of racism. It would be funny if it wasn’t borderline-genocidal.
Fellow white people, I am begging you: don’t make this about you. Go watch the Black Girls Rock! show. Give BET your eyeballs, your time, and your attention. When I sat down to watch the show, I was only in it for myself, but I got a humbling and eye-opening exposure to some phenomenal women who are powerful forces for good in our society. May Black girls continue to rock the boat, the house, and the world.
Yvette Nicole Brown as Shirley Bennett on Community
Anyone who has absorbed even a little bit of pop culture can see that the “sassy ethnic woman” archetype is ubiquitous in television and film. Women of color – particularly black and Latina women – are often used as sassy, finger-snapping side characters who exist only to provide amusing one-liners in the background of whatever white person drama or comic event happening in the forefront. (On a great scene from Scrubs, Carla and Laverne demonstrate how to act like a “minority sidekick from a bad movie”:)
One refreshing departure from the “sassy ethnic woman” stereotype is Shirley Bennett on Community. Played by Yvette Nicole Brown, Shirley is one of four people of color in the show’s main cast, though the onlywoman of color. In an interview with The Daily Beast, which included cast members Alison Brie and Gillian Jacobs and writer Megan Ganz, Brown discussed why Shirley is a refreshing character for her to play:
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight.
Shirley is, perhaps, the only main character on Community who has her own catchphrase, but the catchphrase – “That’s nice!” – is a far cry from the finger-snapping talking-through-the-nose stereotype demonstrated on the above clip from Scrubs. Shirley is exactly what Brown described: a woman filled with suppressed rage who covers up her anger by trying to be sweet and kind. But rather than being an example of a different kind of negative black stereotype – the Angry Black Person who bursts into a rage for no stated reason – the Community writers and Brown show that Shirley has plenty of reasons to be angry.
Like the other members of the Spanish study group, Shirley comes to Greendale Community College when she needs to start a new chapter in her life after the first chapter ended badly: her husband abandoned her and their two children, and she wants to earn a business degree so she can sell her baked goods. Christian and motherly, Shirley takes on a protective nature to the youngest members of the group (Annie, Troy, and Abed), tries to develop a camaraderie with Britta and act as a cheerleader for her flirty dynamic with Jeff, and does her best to ignore the sexual harassment from Pierce.
Annie (Alison Brie), Britta (Gillian Jacobs), and Shirley get caught in a “reverse Porky’s” shenanigan
Soon, Shirley develops close bonds with other members of the study group, trying to keep the group dynamic sweet, light, and happy – but time and time, her repressed anger rises to the surface.
Shirley flies into a rage when Jeff shows interest in a woman other than Britta, acting indignant on Britta’s behalf, but she later admits that she’s still in deep pain over her own divorce: “I was too proud to admit I was hurt, so I had to pretend you were,” she says to her friend.
Shirley is put out and offended when her friends don’t want to attend her Christmas party, taking their reluctance as an insult to her faith, but again, Britta gets to the heart of the matter: Shirley is desperate to recreate a tradition that’s important to her, that’s missing from her life since her painful divorce.
Shirley, when given a chance to act as campus security with Annie for a few days, insists on being the “bad cop” of the duo, a role that Annie also claims. The two characters clash during most of the episode because both are desperate for a change in image. While Annie wants people to stop seeing her as a sweet little girl, Shirley wants people to stop seeing her as a sweet motherly type. (More on that in a minute.)
Annie and Shirley as campus security officers
In short: Shirley has a lot of anger. What makes Shirley’s anger so refreshing is that her anger is not portrayed as a sign of her blackness, or her womanhood, but as the sign of a flawed, complex human being with legitimate pain. Sometimes her anger is towards a perceived slight that has nothing to do with her (assuming that her friends judge her for her Christianity when they don’t), and sometimes her anger is completely justified (getting fed up with Pierce’s harassment and racist comments). Sometimes she’s wrong, and sometimes she’s right – just like any other person.
Anger isn’t a character trait limited to Shirley, either. Annie also has repressed rage. The two women have a lot in common, “aww”-ing over cute things and getting upset when they’re not taken seriously. But of all the other characters in Community, Shirley seems to have the closest bond with Jeff. On the surface, they have little in common – he’s a white playboy sarcastic former lawyer, she’s a married black Christian woman with children – but just as Shirley covers her anger with a layer of sweetness, Jeff covers his with layers of blasé indifference. The fact that a young, insecure Shirley turns out to be Jeff’s former bully from when they were children seems perfect for their characters, and their friendship deepens – and some of their anger is assuaged – after they confront this issue.
Jeff (Joel McHale) and Shirley, BFFs (sort of)
Sometimes the writers on Community give Shirley short shrift compared to the other characters, as if they’re not sure what to do with a woman who is now re-married and in a happy relationship (their strengths are in writing damaged people, not content people). I’d also like the show to further explore her complicated dynamic with Britta, a woman with whom Shirley craves close friendship, but also finds threatening. Still, I’m grateful that Community allows Shirley to be as flawed, funny, and complicated as everyone else at Greendale Community College. She’s my younger brother’s favorite character, and I think that’s nice.
———-
Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen.
Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen. – See more at: https://www.btchflcks.com/search/label/Lady%20T#sthash.84hpSUKB.dpuf
Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen. – See more at: https://www.btchflcks.com/search/label/Lady%20T#sthash.84hpSUKB.dpuf
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight. – See more at: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/28/community-alison-brie-yvette-nicole-brown-gillian-jacobs-megan-ganz-roundtable.html#sthash.cAOgrEkS.dpuf
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight. – See more at: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/28/community-alison-brie-yvette-nicole-brown-gillian-jacobs-megan-ganz-roundtable.html#sthash.cAOgrEkS.dpuf
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight. – See more at: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/28/community-alison-brie-yvette-nicole-brown-gillian-jacobs-megan-ganz-roundtable.html#sthash.cAOgrEkS.dpuf
Yvette Nicole Brown as Shirley Bennett on Community
Anyone who has absorbed even a little bit of pop culture can see that the “sassy ethnic woman” archetype is ubiquitous in television and film. Women of color – particularly black and Latina women – are often used as sassy, finger-snapping side characters who exist only to provide amusing one-liners in the background of whatever white person drama or comic event happening in the forefront. (On a great scene from Scrubs, Carla and Laverne demonstrate how to act like a “minority sidekick from a bad movie”:)
One refreshing departure from the “sassy ethnic woman” stereotype is Shirley Bennett on Community. Played by Yvette Nicole Brown, Shirley is one of four people of color in the show’s main cast, though the onlywoman of color. In an interview with The Daily Beast, which included cast members Alison Brie and Gillian Jacobs and writer Megan Ganz, Brown discussed why Shirley is a refreshing character for her to play:
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight.
Shirley is, perhaps, the only main character on Community who has her own catchphrase, but the catchphrase – “That’s nice!” – is a far cry from the finger-snapping talking-through-the-nose stereotype demonstrated on the above clip from Scrubs. Shirley is exactly what Brown described: a woman filled with suppressed rage who covers up her anger by trying to be sweet and kind. But rather than being an example of a different kind of negative black stereotype – the Angry Black Person who bursts into a rage for no stated reason – the Community writers and Brown show that Shirley has plenty of reasons to be angry.
Like the other members of the Spanish study group, Shirley comes to Greendale Community College when she needs to start a new chapter in her life after the first chapter ended badly: her husband abandoned her and their two children, and she wants to earn a business degree so she can sell her baked goods. Christian and motherly, Shirley takes on a protective nature to the youngest members of the group (Annie, Troy, and Abed), tries to develop a camaraderie with Britta and act as a cheerleader for her flirty dynamic with Jeff, and does her best to ignore the sexual harassment from Pierce.
Annie (Alison Brie), Britta (Gillian Jacobs), and Shirley get caught in a “reverse Porky’s” shenanigan
Soon, Shirley develops close bonds with other members of the study group, trying to keep the group dynamic sweet, light, and happy – but time and time, her repressed anger rises to the surface.
Shirley flies into a rage when Jeff shows interest in a woman other than Britta, acting indignant on Britta’s behalf, but she later admits that she’s still in deep pain over her own divorce: “I was too proud to admit I was hurt, so I had to pretend you were,” she says to her friend.
Shirley is put out and offended when her friends don’t want to attend her Christmas party, taking their reluctance as an insult to her faith, but again, Britta gets to the heart of the matter: Shirley is desperate to recreate a tradition that’s important to her, that’s missing from her life since her painful divorce.
Shirley, when given a chance to act as campus security with Annie for a few days, insists on being the “bad cop” of the duo, a role that Annie also claims. The two characters clash during most of the episode because both are desperate for a change in image. While Annie wants people to stop seeing her as a sweet little girl, Shirley wants people to stop seeing her as a sweet motherly type. (More on that in a minute.)
Annie and Shirley as campus security officers
In short: Shirley has a lot of anger. What makes Shirley’s anger so refreshing is that her anger is not portrayed as a sign of her blackness, or her womanhood, but as the sign of a flawed, complex human being with legitimate pain. Sometimes her anger is towards a perceived slight that has nothing to do with her (assuming that her friends judge her for her Christianity when they don’t), and sometimes her anger is completely justified (getting fed up with Pierce’s harassment and racist comments). Sometimes she’s wrong, and sometimes she’s right – just like any other person.
Anger isn’t a character trait limited to Shirley, either. Annie also has repressed rage. The two women have a lot in common, “aww”-ing over cute things and getting upset when they’re not taken seriously. But of all the other characters in Community, Shirley seems to have the closest bond with Jeff. On the surface, they have little in common – he’s a white playboy sarcastic former lawyer, she’s a married black Christian woman with children – but just as Shirley covers her anger with a layer of sweetness, Jeff covers his with layers of blasé indifference. The fact that a young, insecure Shirley turns out to be Jeff’s former bully from when they were children seems perfect for their characters, and their friendship deepens – and some of their anger is assuaged – after they confront this issue.
Jeff (Joel McHale) and Shirley, BFFs (sort of)
Sometimes the writers on Community give Shirley short shrift compared to the other characters, as if they’re not sure what to do with a woman who is now re-married and in a happy relationship (their strengths are in writing damaged people, not content people). I’d also like the show to further explore her complicated dynamic with Britta, a woman with whom Shirley craves close friendship, but also finds threatening. Still, I’m grateful that Community allows Shirley to be as flawed, funny, and complicated as everyone else at Greendale Community College. She’s my younger brother’s favorite character, and I think that’s nice.
———-
Lady T is a writer with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at www.theresabasile.com.
Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen. – See more at: https://www.btchflcks.com/search/label/Lady%20T#sthash.84hpSUKB.dpuf
Lady T is an aspiring writer and comedian with two novels, a play, and a collection of comedy sketches in progress. She hopes to one day be published and finish one of her projects (not in that order). You can find more of her writing at The Funny Feminist, where she picks apart entertainment and reviews movies she hasn’t seen. – See more at: https://www.btchflcks.com/search/label/Lady%20T#sthash.84hpSUKB.dpuf
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight. – See more at: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/28/community-alison-brie-yvette-nicole-brown-gillian-jacobs-megan-ganz-roundtable.html#sthash.cAOgrEkS.dpuf
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight. – See more at: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/28/community-alison-brie-yvette-nicole-brown-gillian-jacobs-megan-ganz-roundtable.html#sthash.cAOgrEkS.dpuf
As a black actor, it’s refreshing that I’m not playing the “sassy black woman.” It’s something that Dan Harmon was cognizant of from the beginning. It is something that I’m always cognizant of. Every woman on the planet has sass and smart-ass qualities in them, but it seems sometimes only black women are defined by it. Shirley is a fully formed woman that had a sassy moment. Her natural set point, if anything, is rage. That’s her natural set point, suppressed rage, which comes out as kindness and trying to keep everything tight. – See more at: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/28/community-alison-brie-yvette-nicole-brown-gillian-jacobs-megan-ganz-roundtable.html#sthash.cAOgrEkS.dpuf
Nine-year-old Wallis, star of Beasts of the Southern Wild, thanked God, director Behn Zeitlin, and her on-set babysitters.
Winfrey said, of power:
“… for me is that it’s connected to a source that’s obviously greater than myself. Any time you can connect to the source and understand that that’s where all of your energy, your creativity, your joy and your triumph come from, I consider that to be authentic power.”
Union noted that she hadn’t always been “fierce and fearless,” and that she didn’t speak up against racism when she was younger and posed in photographs in ways that would “minimize” her “blackness.” However, she added:
“Real fearless and fierce women admit mistakes and work to correct them,” she said. “We stand up and we use our voices for things other than self-promotion. We don’t stand by and let racism and sexism and homophobia run rampant on our watch. Real fierce and fearless women celebrate and compliment other women and we recognize and embrace the notion that their shine in no way diminishes our light, and actually makes our light shine brighter.”
Brock Akil, writer and producer known for Moesha, Girlfriends, Cougar Town, The Game and Sparkle, delivered a tearful speech, saying:
“All I ever wanted to do was tell our story.”
The awards luncheon, held two days before the Academy Awards, celebrates the success of black women writers, producers, actresses and other Hollywood power-brokers. Actress Tracee Ellis Ross says, “It’s a beautiful afternoon where we’re celebrating each other and giving praise to women that don’t always get praised.”
This event by, for and all about black women in Hollywood serves as a celebration of the successes these women have had and as inspiration to the women who will come after them.
I love Grey’s Anatomy. Is it melodramatic? Absolutely. But its dramatic storylines, sharp dialogue and diverse cast have hooked me from the very first episode. So when I discovered writer, producer, showrunner Shonda Rhimes created Scandal, a political thriller TV series revolving around a woman of color, I knew I had to watch.
Kerry Washington (a feminist in real life…huzzah!) plays Olivia Pope, an assertive attorney who’s a “crisis management expert,” inspired by former George H.W. Bush administration press aide Judy Smith (who also happens to be a producer of the show). Olivia runs a small organization of lawyers who fix scandals and clean up messes like murder charges and infidelity. With a subtle and nuanced performance, Washington is definitely the best part of the series.
What’s so interesting (and fucking sad) is that Scandal is the only prime-time TV show on right now centering around an African American woman. And it’s the first network show with a black female lead in 30 years (that is horrifying). I’ve often heard Washington is a fantastic actor and she was great in the heartbreaking For Colored Girls. Here she commands the screen with confidence and poise. Olivia is an intelligent, successful and empowered woman. Others look up to her, revere her and even fear her shrewd insights and relentlessness to finish a job. She’s demanding, requiring her staff to pull all-nighters and enforcing rules like no crying in the office and not answering “I don’t know” to a question she asks. Powerful politicians turn to her for advice. She negotiates deals on her terms. While new employee Quinn (Katie Lowes) idolizes her, Olivia is far from a paragon of perfection. She’s vulnerable with a messy and complicated love life. She’s flawed, not always likeable (although I personally love her!) and uses Machiavellian tactics to complete a job. But this mélange makes her all the more interesting.
Washington was recently on The Melissa Harris-Perry Show (one of my absolute favorite feminist icons EVER!!!). She talked about inclusivity and how she and Harris-Perry, as two women of color on TV, are “expanding the idea of who ‘We the People’ is.” She also discussed playing a complex female character on-screen:
“…When I read this script, I was so blown away by this woman who in one area of her life, in her professional life, she’s brilliant and sophisticated and in power. And then in her personal life she’s vulnerable and torn and confused. And I thought this is an incredible challenge for any actor. But we also don’t get to do that often — as women in this business, as people of color in this business — to have all of that complexity to explore.”
And she’s right. We too often don’t see complex women, especially women of color, on-screen.
I loved the political intrigue and the focus on a single, accomplished, career-driven woman. And of course how could I not be delighted that Henry Ian Cusick (aka dreamy Desmond from LOST) has found a new series. I was thrilled that the show opens from Quinn’s perspective, taking a job with Olivia because of her reverence for her stellar reputation. I also loved that within the first 7 minutes, a character derided a potential client because he was an anti-choice, anti-gay Republican. While many people assume the media suffers from a liberal bias, too few shows actually discuss abortion or LGBTQ issues.
While most of it is good, some of the dialogue felt a bit staged or forced. I cringed when Olivia body polices and chastises new employee Quinn for displaying too much cleavage and when Abby (Darby Stanchfield), one of Olivia’s employees, gleefully calls a female murder victim a whore…and drops the whore word a few more times in the next episode too. While there are several female characters (none of whom are really fleshed out yet beyond Olivia), most of the time they’re interacting with men. Although Olivia does have conversations with a young woman who claims is having an affair with the president (Olivia’s former boss) and with the wife of a Supreme Court nominee. No strong female friendships emerge yet. But we’re only 2 episodes into the series. Female friendships comprise the cores of Rhimes’ other shows, Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice. So I’m hopeful that we’ll see more female interaction as the series progresses.
Much like its complicated protagonist, the series isn’t perfect yet. But it’s got potential. I’m rooting for it because we can never have too many sharp political dramas. And we can never have too many female leads, especially with women of color.
Scandal is a big deal. Not only do we have a woman of color protagonist, we have a series written and created by a woman of color. With Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice and Scandal, Rhimes belongs “in an elite group of TV show runners who have multiple series on the air at the same time.” In each of Rhimes’ television shows, she puts women at the forefront. While she has held open casting calls for all ethnicities and has African American, Latina, Asian American and white women in her shows, she’s never had a series revolve around a woman of color. Until now.
“I think it’s a really special time to be a woman of color in this business. The landscape of who has the power is changing. We are in more influential positions and are able to have a say in the stories that are told. I feel very lucky to be in the business now…”
“It will be easier when black actresses become more visible in roles across the spectrum, (think fantasy hits like Harry Potter, or romantic dramas like The Notebook) and not just ones that call for an African-American female.”
“It’s risky for a network that depends on millions of viewers for advertising revenue to cast a lead that the majority of viewers (read: white people) may not relate to. While a show like Pan Am (fondly known as Carefree White Girls Explore the Third World) can fail to take off without consequence, it feels, at times, as if the fate of every black actor and actress on television rides on the success or failure of one show each season.”
In a time when Trayvon Martin was shot for being a young black man wearing a hoodie…when racist Hunger Games fans can’t empathize with a black character in the film adaptation…when accomplished and ridiculously talented black female actors like Viola Davis have a hard time finding roles…when black female actors must play either maids or drug addicts or sassy best friends…when female actors of color get sidelined from the cover of Vanity Fair — our society tells people of color over and over and over again implicitly and explicitly that their bodies and their lives don’t matter.
It’s time to change that. It’s time for our media to stop revolving around white men’s stories and reflect the diversity of our world.
(L-R): Zoe Saldana and Nina Simone; image via Black Street
When Zoe Saldana was recently cast as legendary singer Nina Simone in her upcoming biopic, the decision ignited a firestorm of controversy. People have vehemently criticized the decision. Not because Saldana isn’t a skilled actor (she is). But because her skin is much lighter than the music icon.
I’ve wanted to write about this topic for awhile now. But how can I, a white woman, do justice to the complex issue of race?
I’ll never know discrimination or oppression based on the color of my skin. But I realized that while the whitewashing of Hollywood remains an ongoing conversation in the Black community, it’s not a discussion amongst everyone. And it should be.
Nina Simone’s daughter Simone spoke to Ebony about why skin color should matter in the casting of her mother’s biopic:
“I can guarantee that the sense of insecurity and the questioning of one’s beauty that results from a grownup telling you that as a child you’re too black and your nose is too wide, remained with her [her mother Nina Simone] for the rest of her life.”
At The Huffington Post, Nicole Moore writes about Nina Simone and the “erasure of black women in film”:
“Because Simone’s blackness extended as much to her musical prowess as to her physicality and image, it’s perplexing that the film’s production team, led by Jimmy Iovine, expects anyone, particularly in the black community, to (re)imagine Nina Simone as fair-skinned, thin-lipped and narrow-nosed? I guess if you look at Hollywood’s history of casting black female roles, especially in biopics, it’s not all that surprising.”
Hollywood has a massive race and gender problem. Black women’s bodies belong to a dichotomy suffering from either fetishization or erasure. When Black women appear in media, which doesn’t happen nearly enough, they suffer from stereotypes of mammies, jezebels and sapphires. And too many producers and directors clearly don’t understand the nuances of race, thinking any person of color will suffice.
“In the past few years Hollywood has consistently gotten it wrong when it comes to telling black women’s narratives. From the questionable choice of casting Thandie Newton as an Igbo woman in the film adaptation of the novel Half of a Yellow Sun and Jennifer Hudson as Winnie Mandela, to Jacqueline Fleming, a biracial woman, playing Harriet Tubman, when other people are in charge of portraying us, it seems like any brown face will do.”
“But this casting (with no shot taken at Saldana) manages to both erase the specific kind of racism Simone contended with and at the same time empower it.”
“Skin color and its importance around the world—and particularly in the African-American community—has been a hot-button issue for generations. The debate over skin color and its painful origins dates back to the days of slavery, when lighter skin often equaled a better overall quality of life. With more pronounced European features, bearers of a lighter complexion were also considered more attractive than their darker-skinned peers. Possessing this trait was believed to open the cracked doors of opportunity ever wider.”
Due to white privilege, white people don’t agonize over their skin color. We don’t have to worry if someone will harass us or follow us around in a department store, thinking we’re going to steal merchandise simply because of our skin. If we move, we don’t have to worry about finding neighbors who don’t like us because of our skin color. We don’t have to fret over something as simple as putting on a Band-Aid which won’t match our skin tone.
My point is this: we don’t ever have to think about race. Sure, we can if we want to. But we don’t haveto. And therein lies the privilege.
“Pushing for ownership of both the infrastructure and content that portrays our lived experiences – that is the crux of the issue; not just the politics of light vs. dark-skinned actresses. So, whereas I am completely on board with calling out the colorism behind the biopic’s casting choices (and the harmful message that’s being sent to young, dark-skinned black girls everywhere by having a light-skinned woman play Nina Simone) there aren’t enough strong lead roles written for women of color in Hollywood for me to fairly tell Zoe Saldana, a hard-working, talented brown woman to ”sit this one out.”
Here at Bitch Flicks, we talk a lot about the need for more female filmmakers and women-centric films. One of the takeaways from the Zoe Saldana/Nina Simone controversy is that we desperately need more women of color filmmakers.
The Help crystallizes Hollywood’s problem with Black women. Sure, we see strong and complex Black women telling their stories of discrimination and hardship to writer Skeeter (Emma Stone). But even in a film containing the inarguably talented Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer giving phenomenal Oscar nominated and Oscar-winning performances, it still remains a racially problematic film. Even in a film that supposedly champions Black women, it ultimately revolves around a white female protagonist’s perspective.
While women filmmakers don’t merely depict female protagonists, when more women are behind the camera, we tend to see more women in front of the camera. Looking back at this year’s movies, female-fronted films such as Brave, The Hunger Games, Prometheus, and Snow White and the Huntsman graced the big screen. We saw women-centric indies like Your Sister’s Sister, Take This Waltz, For a Good Time Call… and Bachelorette. We even witnessed strong women in male-dominated movies like Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises and Black Widow in The Avengers.
But when you look at the female protagonists — aside from Beasts of the Southern Wild, Sparkle, The Lady, Girl in Progress and Celeste and Jesse Forever which all featured women of color in lead roles — you’ll notice their overwhelming whiteness.
Perhaps if we had more Black women filmmakers, we would see more nuanced and diverse depictions of Black women on-screen.
Now, that doesn’t mean white women and men can’t or shouldn’t write strong, complex Black female characters. But it does mean white people have to stop appropriating Black women’s narratives, especially if we’re not going to take the time to attempt to understand the intricate and painful complexities of the light vs. dark skin stigma. And we’ve got to stop pretending we live in a post-racial society. We don’t.
We need more films from Black women directors like Ava DuVernay, Dee Rees and Julie Dash. But we aren’t seeing enough Black women in front of or behind the camera. In her Women and Hollywood cross-post, Evette Dionne wonders “Where are the black women film directors?” She explores the “exile of black women film directors” by studios that refuse to fund their work.
“So black women, one of the most sought after audience demographics for movie studios, aren’t behind the camera providing insight into our culture. This leads to a misrepresentation of the black community on the silver screen. Often, we are caricatures of ourselves, as evidenced in Jumping the Broom and other projects, which leads to resentment for what the media machine represents in our communities.”
Last year, I had the overwhelming privilege of meeting one of my feminist idols, Professor Melissa Harris-Perry (squee!!). After her brilliant and empowering speech on her must-read book Sister Citizen, she graciously stayed afterwards and spoke to each and every person. When I finally got my chance to talk to her, I gushed about how much I loved her and how she needed her own TV show (and this was BEFORE her fantastic MSNBC weekend show was announced!). I also asked her how to be a good ally to women of color. She gave the simplest yet hardest advice of all. Listen. When in a room with women of color, she said to be silent, listen and let them speak for themselves. When you find yourself in a space with no women of color, that’s when you need to speak up.
So we white women (and men) need to speak up against racism.
When people talk about the need for more women in media — sadly, they often mean white women. Many of us who write about the need for women’s representation in film or women-created media feel satisfaction when we see white female leads on-screen and white female writers and directors. But that’s got to change. We need films to portray women of all races, created by women of all races — not just white women and think we’ve somehow achieved some semblance of equity.
White women and men filmmakers need to realize the damage they wreak when they only cast light-skinned Black women (if they cast women of color at all), especially in a biopic of a famous Black woman with dark skin.
It’s time for us white women to listen. Listen to black women. Listen to their needs and wants and support them from the sidelines. We can’t merely be satisfied when any woman stands on-screen. Black women must be behind the camera, telling their own stories.
