It’s 8 pm on a random Thursday night. My best friend and I spent the day dragging our feet through dreadful lectures, getting stomped out by the stress of finals, and trying our best to enjoy bland dining hall food. Because our dorm is the only place we can escape, we immediately returned and began our nightly routine. Since the beginning of the semester, we chose to watch three to four episodes of a new or old series that we loved every night. This month was the CW series called All American. While she set up her laptop, I cleared my desk. Then we bunched in front of my desk, sitting in the rugged wooden chairs the school provided, just to watch the episodes. This routine was a simple pleasure that we enjoyed sharing. It was a breath of fresh air—a moment for us to alleviate any heavy thinking and even heavy feeling.
For at least an hour, we fully immersed ourselves in the lives and drama of the show’s fictional characters. But being engaged in this show became complex and frustrating during that night’s episodes. If you are not familiar, All American is a show with a majority Black cast inspired by the life story of NFL Superbowl Champion Spencer Paysinger. It follows the high school football phenom Spencer James and his friends from South Central LA and Beverly Hills. It is, what you may call, the typical teenage, family, high school, sports drama tv show. It’s full of love triangles, school rivalries, and a whole lot of “I don’t know which college I will go to.” However, since the 2020 BLM protest, issues of race have been broadcasted in every form of media and business. Businesses like clothing brands, food brands, sports companies, social media platforms— you name it. They all have released statements acknowledging race and pledged to be more inclusive for their Black audiences. The film and media business doesn’t fall short of this same demonstration. That night, the episodes we watched included a police shooting of a young Black girl from Spencer’s neighborhood. They spent the episodes exploring protest, intense trials, racial targeting, etc.
Now, I know you may be wondering why I am not a fan of this type of demonstration but hear me out. In no way am I saying that I hate talking about issues of racial inequalities, and I don’t want it on television. It is a great way to spark the right conversations about race and racism. However, how often do I have to watch a movie or show about the same topics? How many episodes dedicated to race need to be made to inform others? They give us slavery portrayals, civil rights stories, BLM reenactments, police brutality, or just plain Black trauma when we ask for more representation. My best friend and I wanted to distract ourselves from reality, yet we were left triggered and reminded of what we can face as Black women.
I want to read and watch stories without being reminded that being Black, unfortunately, comes with the burden of racism and inequality. Princess Tiana wasn’t just a Disney princess. They included the fact that she struggled to afford her business, and her mother worked for a white family (Princess and the Frog). Netflix couldn’t make a movie about a smart Black girl inventing the time machine and leave it at that. They had to make her use it to go back in time to stop the police from killing her brother (See You Yesterday). Our version of Bonnie and Clyde wasn’t a daring drama about love and crime. It was about a Black couple on the run after killing a white cop (Queen and Slim). Where are the fun, happy, magical, exciting, daring, and innocent movies for us? I’m not saying they don’t exist, but it is less common and less promoted. It’s almost as if creators think that it’s not a Black story if it doesn’t have a racial struggle. We have worth telling only historical biopics, police brutality, or slavery.
A piece of media can be salient to Black culture without highlighting racism or trauma. For example, Johnson Family Vacation, Fresh Prince, That’s So Raven, and Issa Rae’s Insecure is undeniably rich in Black culture without glorifying the racial injustices we endure. I want more of that. I want more content of Black people just living life. This desire is not to negate the history and significance of our struggles and how they may be helpful to the plot of a story. I know art imitates life, but can I dream of a world where racial inequality doesn’t exist? I’m exhausted. I strive to write the stories I want to see as a writer. I want to see more movies, books, and tv shows about Black nerds, Black vampires, Black royalty, quirky Black love without trauma. Fiction is all about dreams, imagination, and world-building, so why not use it just for that.
