The Illusion of Black Patriotism

Header image description: Olivia Pope, the main protagonist of the ABC television show Scandal, stands in the Oval Office. She wears a red and black shawl and black pants and has her arms crossed over her chest. To her right there is a navy blue flag bearing the seal of the United States, and in front of that flag is the Resolute Desk. She stands in front of a window with gold curtains.

After Barack Obama was elected president in 2008, many people — Black and white alike — believed that the United States had finally become a postracial society. To them, his election to the highest office in the nation proved that Black people really could do anything we put our minds to. Thomas Jefferson’s words “all men are created equal” had finally come true.

Except Thomas Jefferson was a white supremacist and Black people were still being murdered simply for being Black while Obama was in office — showing that America was founded on racism and continues to operate based on racism. The idea of America as a postracial society is and has always been nothing more than an illusion.

Postracialism is the myth that Black people have achieved social equality with whites, meaning that race is no longer a salient factor in social relations and we no longer have to worry about racism. The disproportionate violence faced by Black people in this country has shown that postracialism is a total fabrication; however, this hasn’t stopped writers, showrunners, filmmakers, and others from peddling this fairy tale to the American public.

Over the last decade, über-patriotic Black political characters have become a staple in American media. This makes sense when you remember that Obama’s meteoric rise to political fame hinged on him proving to “Middle America” (AKA, right-wing white people) that he’s just as proud to be American as they are. Emblematic of this trend is Hamilton: An American Musical, which casts nonwhite people to play the founding fathers onstage. This musical has led to problems — more specifically, white people thinking they can’t be racist because they like a musical with a mostly nonwhite cast — but I’ve already talked about this quite a bit. There were also David Estes, a CIA higher-up on Homeland, and David Palmer, a Senator and later the president on the series 24.

Even more popular was the ABC show Scandal (2012-2018), which featured Olivia Pope, a Black woman who worked as a “fixer” for the rich and powerful of Washington, D.C., no matter their political leanings. Less mainstream but very well-known in its own right is a Hamilton fanfiction entitled Quid Pro Quo (known by fans as simply “QPQ”), which presents the characters from the musical as prominent political figures in present-day D.C. Both Scandal and QPQ include Black people as protagonists who love their country and fall squarely within the seemingly dichotomous two-party system. But, as I’ll explain, these characters just…don’t make sense.

Image description: A promotional photo for Scandal which shows many of the main characters lined up, apparently at the Lincoln Memorial. They wear all black, except for Olivia, who is front and center. She wears a black and white coat, black pants, and carries a black purse. Credit: ABC

I’m sure y’all know about Scandal, but here’s an overview just in case: Olivia Pope is a Black woman who, through PR expertise, makes problems disappear for influential clients. Before the start of the series, she was the Communications Director for President Fitz Grant III, who is white, male, and a Republican. She’s also having an affair with Fitz, which is the titular scandal. Olivia is self-assured to the maximum and gets what she wants from everyone she asks something of, from her employees to powerful white men. Her race is rarely brought up onscreen. Cheryl Ann Lambert said that “Scandal presents an environment with no discernible sociocultural identity…The minimization of race in Scandal tends to normalize the idea that post-racialism is realistic and desired.” 

Before I get into QPQ, I have to explain how Hamilton fanfictions work. (Also, I’ll refer to fanfictions as “fics” because, TBH, nobody ever says the whole word.) The difference between a Hamilton fic and a regular American Revolution fic (which, yes, those do exist) is that in the former, you’re supposed to imagine the historical figures as how the actors in the original Broadway cast of the musical look. So, instead of imagining George Washington as some old white dude with dentures, he’s supposed to look like Chris Jackson, who originated the role in the musical. Make sense? Cool.

The very short version of this fic is that George Washington (who, again, is Black) is a preeminent U.S. Senator and Alexander Hamilton is one of his staffers and also his sugar baby. Political shenanigans ensue. That’s basically the entire plot. Now, QPQ isn’t just any Hamilton fic — it is the Hamilton fic. It is the most popular work in the “Hamilton — Miranda” fandom on Archive of Our Own, a popular fanfiction site, if you sort by “bookmarks” (the function by which users save works to their personal library). If you sort by “kudos,” or likes, it’s the fifth most popular work in the fandom. It has over 100,000 hits and counting — basically, if you are or ever were a Hamilton fan, it’s virtually impossible to have never heard of QPQ.

What Olivia Pope and QPQ’s George Washington have in common is that they’re highly successful political figures in twenty-first century D.C. who happen to be multiply marginalized Black people (a Black woman, in the case of Olivia, and a Black queer man, for Washington). They live in high-end areas of D.C. that have very few Black residents — Olivia lives in Georgetown, which is only about 6% Black, while Washington lives in Cleveland Park, which is about 9% Black. Both characters seem to be unconsciously isolated from their Blackness, even if other people around them recognize that they are Black. I have a running note on my phone of the times Scandal actually brings up race; in the 47 episodes of the first three seasons, Olivia is explicitly mentioned to be Black four times. In 34 chapters and 123,027 words of QPQ, Washington’s Blackness is mentioned only once.

Image description: A photograph of some of the core members of the original Hamilton cast; namely, Daveed Diggs, Chris Jackson, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and Leslie Odom Jr. All of them are Black except for Miranda, who is Latino. When reading Hamilton fics about the founding fathers, this is what they are supposed to look like. This photograph actually inspired part of QPQ. Credit: The New York Times

In “Divas, Evil Black Bitches, and Bitter Black Women: African American Women in Postfeminist and Post-Civil-Rights Popular Culture,” Kimberly Springer wrote that professional success for Black women is often to the detriment of not only their self-esteem, but also their racial identity and affiliation. In other words, Black people who climb the professional ladder seem to forget they’re Black. Due to respectability politics, desire for white validation, and the general lack of Black people in fields such as medicine, tech, and national politics, the Black people who do “make it” either sacrifice or are forced to give up connections with the larger Black community for their career.

In Scandal, Olivia has a few Black people around her, but no Black community. There’s her father, Eli; her on-again off-again boyfriend, Senator Edison Davis; two of her employees, Harrison and Marcus; and a recurring white house security guard, Morris. The most Black people she’s ever been around was in a 2015 episode called “The Lawn Chair,” where a cop shoots and kills a Black kid in a Black neighbourhood. Olivia goes to the neighbourhood just to try to ease tensions on behalf of the White House; she has zero connection to any of the Black people or the neighbourhood itself and shows no interest in forging connections with them. Her Blackness is secondary to her relationship with Fitz and the White House. In QPQ, the only Black people in Washington’s life are his wife, Martha, and two of his employees, Aaron Burr and Lafayette. (There’s also Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, fellow members of Congress, but they’re political and personal rivals, not friends or supporters.)

D.C. has historically been known as “Chocolate City” due its high concentration of Black people and culture. I go to a PWI in D.C. and Black students here still manage to connect with the Black culture of the city, including attending Howard’s homecoming every year. I mean, shit, even Frank Underwood, a white Congressman in House of Cards, manages to go to a BBQ restaurant regularly and is ostensibly good friends with the shop’s Black owner, Freddy. How do Olivia and Washington somehow have no connection to any Black community in one of the Blackest cities in the country?

Image description: The signpost of Freddy’s BBQ Joint, a fictional Black restaurant in D.C. in House of Cards. Frank Underwood, a white Congressman and House Majority Whip on the show, regularly visits the restaurant and has a personal connection to Freddy, the Black owner of the shop. Credit: Netflix

Despite rampant gentrification, Black people remain the largest racial group in the District at 47% of the population; we face disproportionately high violence from law enforcement. According to The Guardian, in 2016 — the year QPQ was written and Scandal was in its fifth season — D.C. law enforcement killed five people, all of them Black. Black people are at even higher risk for violence from law enforcement in the DMV (D.C., Maryland, and Virginia) area because it is under the purview of multiple local, state, and federal agencies such as the FBI, Capitol Police, and Secret Service. In QPQ and Scandal, however, Washington and Olivia fully trust these agencies and are unconditionally protected by them; their Blackness is never an issue with cops.

In his paper about the pitfalls of a white liberal approach to racism, Nicholas Oviedo-Torres writes: “White liberalism requires some form of denial of the reality of one’s full role within the racial hierarchy, which includes a denial of one’s full role as an oppressed member within the hierarchy.” When Black characters such as Olivia and Washington deny their reality, they “view other Black people as ‘the other,’ despite never being accepted by white people.” In Season 2, episode 11 of Scandal, Cyrus, the white male chief of staff, says to Fitz — while Olivia isn’t around, mind you — that she “is not exactly a hue that most of your Republican constituents would be happy about.” Basically, Olivia’s race is relevant to others, even if it’s not relevant to her.

It’s clear that both Olivia and Washington comply with a neoliberal approach to life and politics for the sake of their careers. In the singular mention of Washington’s race in QPQ, he says: “I’m a black Democrat from Virginia…I can’t be a radical if I want to stay in office.” The blurb for the fic describes him as “a war hero”; he is very proud of his military service and it’s even mentioned in Chapter 2 that he voted for the PATRIOT Act. In Scandal, Olivia will do anything for “the good of the republic,” from rigging presidential elections in favor of a Republican candidate to literally killing people. Her one guiding moral is to ensure that the American experiment lasts as long as possible. Both of these characters are unequivocally patriotic, and, like Obama, proud to be Americans, despite the racially unjust foundations of the United States.

Image description: The first inauguration of Barack Obama on January 20, 2009. He wears a red tie and black suit; his right hand is raised and his left hand rests on a bible held by his wife, Michelle, while he takes the oath of the office of the President. Credit: Los Angeles Times

The history and present of this country show that being both Black and patriotic is more than a bit contradictory. When he wrote about his concept of double consciousness in The Souls of Black Folk, W. E. B. Du Bois posits Blackness and Americanness as diametrically opposed. He calls these identities “two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body.” In sum, to embrace Blackness is to be un-American, and to be truly American is to be anti-Black. Sure, the world has changed quite a bit since Du Bois wrote this in 1903; I’m sure he never imagined a Black person becoming president a mere century later. However, I believe his words remain true, despite the social and political progress that has been made. In a 2017 article called “The Paradox of Black Patriotism,” Micah E. Johnson wrote about “potential tensions and nuances between allegiance to race and allegiance to nation”; I agree with this sentiment.

I’ll admit, I’m a sucker for a bit of #BlackExcellence here and there. However, I often wonder what the costs of success are for Black people who are making waves in their respective fields. Black faces in high places seem great at first, but, as many people have written, mere representation won’t save us. Trying to prove that we’re just as American as white people won’t save us either, as the advent of the Movement for Black Lives under Obama’s presidency demonstrated.

It’s not surprising to me that both Scandal’s Olivia Pope and Quid Pro Quo’s George Washington were incredibly popular Black characters who were incredibly patriotic and lived in a seemingly postracial society. Nevertheless, I think postracialism and Black patriotism are not only inefficient, but unnecessary. I’m real tired of this trope; Black people shouldn’t need to love an imperial nation to attain success. Thanks, Obama.

Git Back, Git Back, Git Back: The Nonexistent Racial Politics of Netflix’s The Umbrella Academy

Header image description: A promotional photo for season 2 of The Umbrella Academy, which shows the seven adopted Hargreeves siblings standing in front of a black background with a white vortex. They each wear sunglasses that reflect an image of what they’re dealing with that season. Allison, the lone Black sibling, stands on the far left; her yellow sunglasses depict a civil rights rally, and you can see a Black person holding a poster that says “FREEDOM NOW.” Most of the others are white; the two other nonwhite siblings are Diego, who is Latino, and Ben, who is Asian. [Credit: Netflix]

SPOILER ALERT: This article contains spoilers for Seasons 1 and 2 of The Umbrella Academy.

A few notes: (1) This article is about the racial politics of The Umbrella Academy the television show, not the comics. (2) I asked friends and colleagues to contribute their thoughts to this piece before I wrote it; they are all nonwhite. I didn’t ask specific questions; I just asked for their thoughts about the “racial politics” of the show. (3) Both seasons of the show so far were filmed before actor Elliot Page publicly announced that his pronouns are he/they; his character, Vanya, is referred to by she/her pronouns in the show. Because the showrunners have not yet said what Vanya’s pronouns will be in future seasons, I refer to Vanya with they/them pronouns in accordance with Page’s identity.

Now I want you to tell me brother

What you gonna do about the old Jim Crow?

Now if you was white, should be all right

If you was brown, could stick around

But if you black, whoa brother, git back git back git back

Big Bill Broonzy, “Black, Brown, and White” (1938)

Once I finished my finals in December, I had exactly six weeks for my winter vacation; like any good twenty-first century college student, I spent the entire break binge-watching television. I managed to get through The Wilds on Amazon Prime, season 4 of Riverdale, Shondaland’s Bridgerton, and even rewatch Avatar: The Last Airbender for the fifty-leventh time.

I also watched both seasons of The Umbrella Academy. As a *ahem* “reformed” emo kid, I’d been meaning to read the original comics — which the show is based on — for years now, and when I heard that Netflix was creating a TV adaptation, I was determined to watch it at some point. (The comics were written by Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance fame.)

The TL;DR premise of the show is this: at noon on October 1, 1989, forty-three women around the world gave birth, despite not being pregnant before that morning. Reginald Hargreeves, an eccentric billionaire, adopted seven of these children and trained them to use their superpowers so that they could save the world from evil. Instead of naming them, Reginald numbered the children from one to seven; they eventually received names from their mother (who is an android). The basic rundown of the siblings and their powers is as follows:

  1. Number One — AKA Luther — super-strength — white man
  2. Number Two — AKA Diego — metal telekinesis — nonwhite Latino
  3. Number Three — AKA Allison — mind control — Black woman
  4. Number Four — AKA Klaus — able to commune with the dead — white man
  5. Number Five — no AKA — able to jump through time and space — white teenage boy
  6. Number Six — AKA Ben — able to turn himself into a monster — Asian man — died as a child in a mission, but Klaus summons him regularly
  7. Number Seven — AKA Vanya — believed to not have powers for most of season 1, but in reality can bend and control waves of energy — white person

In the comics, all of the Hargreeves siblings are white; this was changed for the show. I guess Netflix must have a bit of sense, because they didn’t make the same mistake as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (You send golden tickets all over the world and only white kids find them? C’mon, now!) Still, most of the seven siblings are white, including the group’s leader, Number One AKA Luther.

Of course, the leader character was gonna be a white boy. They wouldn’t dare have a PoC [person of color] be a lead in what they hope is a show that will bring in majority white audiences…In fact, when we look at the folks who get the most screen time, or the longest plots, Diego, Allison, and Ben get crumbs compared to Five, Vanya, Luther, and Klaus.

Jenna, a friend and classmate

In season 1, which is set in 2019, race is never mentioned. I assumed that it would be like most colorblind adaptations, where race isn’t a thing. As I said in my last blog post, I like a good colorblind production — emphasis on “good.” I’m not saying The Umbrella Academy handles race badly, but they certainly don’t handle it well. The show’s racial politics are simply nonexistent.

Image description: A season 1 promotional photo. The siblings, from left to right, are Vanya, Five, Allison, Luther, Diego, and Klaus. Ben is not pictured. [Credit: Netflix]

The showrunners seem to have made certain characters nonwhite without much thought; namely, Allison, Diego, and Lila (who I’ll get to later). Or, as my friend Heejin put it, nonwhite characters were “slapped on for the Netflix version and it really shows.” It doesn’t really matter in season 1, because race never comes up. (Though, as Heejin sardonically noted: “ah yes…their multiracial adoptive family that has no racial tension because racism-is-over™.”)

The show is very clearly written by white people and the diversity of the cast isn’t necessarily bad in my opinion (unlike Hamilton), but there’s nothing substantial that the show attempts to say. It just feels like the new characters of color are tools for a white writer to say ‘look, diversity!’

Hock, a friend and classmate

However, race comes to matter in season 2 because the siblings have traveled back to 1960s Dallas. As soon as Allison lands (literally) in that context, she unknowingly walks into a whites-only restaurant and is subsequently harassed and chased by a group of white men. She finds refuge in a Black hair salon that doubles as a meeting spot for the Southern Justice Coordinating Committee (SJCC). [Side note: is this the Hollywood version of “just change the answers a bit so it doesn’t look like we cheated?] In the two years between her arrival in Dallas and the start of season 2, Allison has become an integral part of the civil rights movement in the city. Or, as Klaus very dismissively puts it: “Allison has been very involved in local politics.”

Before I move forward, it’s important to be aware of the fact that Allison, as a leader of this civil rights group, is light-skinned; as Iyanah, a classmate, said, the latent colorism is “its own mess.”

Also, throughout seasons 1 and 2, Allison and Luther seem to be romantically interested in each other. (Yes, they are brother and sister, and refer to each other as such.) This swirl incest storyline was brought up by four people who contributed their thoughts to this, and we’ve all agreed it’s weird AF. My friend Jenna has a theory as to how the showrunners approached this little plot point:

Luther and Allison’s relationship can go to hell. They knew damn well if Allison was white they wouldn’t try it. Black women and white men have the most distance from each other socially so they hoped the audience would be virtually incapable of perceiving them as siblings.

Jenna
Image description: A screenshot of a gif from the season 2 finale, which shows Luther giving Allison CPR. In this particular fan-made gif, the creator slowed it down and isolated it from the context of the episode, so it just looks like Luther is kissing her. We’re not gonna talk about it, we’re not gonna talk about it… [Credit: Netflix, vanyahargreaves on Tumblr]

A former classmate said this about season 2: “At first I thought we were supposed to suspend belief that racism existed…but one of the plot points was the Civil Rights Movement.” Another friend said that because this is a fantasy show, she didn’t think it would tackle any complex or serious storylines; it was weird for civil rights to become a “focal point” of the second season As that classmate said, there’s a “disconnect” between the colorblindness of season 1 and the focus on race and racism in season 2.

There’s no way to sugarcoat this: the civil rights storyline is incredibly clumsy. Zan, a former classmate, accurately pointed out that the civil rights movement in the show is an idealized and glossed over version of the actual, historical campaign. The refrain of the SJCC is “honor and dignity”; in other words, “don’t beat these crackers’ asses even though they deserve it.” My friend Khalid noted that “the show disregards other movements for civil rights that weren’t as nonviolent.”

In the third episode, Allison’s [Black] husband, Raymond, is being beaten by a racist white cop after a failed sit-in at the same restaurant Allison accidentally walked into earlier. When Allison uses her power to get that cop to leave him alone, Raymond sees her in a negative light despite the fact that she literally saved his life. Zan said that besides being unrealistic, this only serves to further the belief that Black people aren’t even permitted to use force in the name of self-defense.

Throughout season 2, the other Hargreeves siblings actively ignore the fact that Allison, their sister, is facing racist violence. Adora, a student at my university, said it was unrealistic that her siblings would be “walking [around] freely while Allison is fighting for her life.” The lack of involvement of her siblings — or any non-Black people at all — in the SJCC’s campaign implicitly tells viewers that fighting racism is the onus of Black people and Black people only. Besides being irresponsible to signify such (especially considering that this season premiered in the summer of 2020…), it’s also completely ahistorical: the real life Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC, the organizing home of leaders such as the late John Lewis) and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC, the organizing home of Dr. King) were intentionally multiracial coalitions.

Image description: A screenshot of a gif of season 2, episode 1; it shows the characters Lila Pitts, who is South Asian, and Diego Hargreeves, who is Latino. [Credit: Netflix; shesnake on Tumblr]

The second season of The Umbrella Academy also includes a conversation about proximity to whiteness that, while unintentional, is emblematic of our society’s racial mores. Though Allison is not the only nonwhite character, she is the only one who faces racism. (This is just more fuel for my theory that when the race war finally does pop off, it won’t be white people versus people of color; it’ll be niggas versus errbody else.) Her brother, Diego, is a nonwhite Latino; however, his race is rarely mentioned, despite the fact that it’s Dallas in 1963. In episode one, a newspaper calls Diego “a man of Hispanic descent,” while in the season finale, a news anchor refers to him as a “Cuban exile.”

At the beginning of season 2, Diego is institutionalized in a mental hospital (the staff of which regularly harasses and violates its inmates) because he’s been stalking Lee Harvey Oswald, trying to stop him from shooting JFK. Two things: (1) since when do nonwhite people go that hard for the Kennedys? (2) The normalized ableism endemic to this show…whew, chile. That’s a whole other article right there.

In the hospital, Diego meets Lila, a South Asian-British woman whose sexual tension with him from her first onscreen moment is cringe-y, to say the least. (I have thoughts about this relationship too, but I’ll just sum them up with this: while searching for images of Diego and Lila to use above, I mostly found shipping fanart and gifs. My face was set in a grimace the whole time I was scrolling.)

As far as viewers can see, the hospital has no Black patients; yet, somehow, a Latino and a South Asian woman can be there. Later in the season, viewers also see Lila at a bingo game with a bunch of old white people (in Texas! In 1963!); she is the lone nonwhite person in attendance. Nobody comments on her presence. Yes, legalized racial segregation in the United States very specifically targeted Black people; however, it also applied to non-Black people of color. Acting like these characters would be sharing facilities with white people is plain incorrect.

Diego, Lila, and their sexual tension get into hella misadventures during the season. As my friend Kodie said, “literally Lila [is] darker than Allison, running amok [in] the early 60s, and Diego was clearly brown too.” Many people I spoke to brought up the fact that the total lack of discrimination faced by the only other brown main characters is ludicrous. Make it make sense, Netflix!

Diego and Lila freely waltzing around 60s Texas?? Hello?? They are Not White. It’s like the writers knew they’d hit backlash for not bringing up race in the show so they used Allison & said, “Hmm, Black people…I think we’re good here.”

Jenna
Image description: The Hargreeves siblings in the season 2 finale. From left to right: Klaus, Ben, Five, Vanya, Luther, Diego, and Allison. [Credit: Netflix]

I’m just scratching the surface of this show’s questionable handling of race. The people I spoke to brought up much, much more that didn’t fit in this article, but is no less relevant. The fact of the matter is this: we do not and have never lived in a postracial society; therefore, race, when addressed in popular culture, must have a clear, responsible, and contextual set of racial politics. Unfortunately, The Umbrella Academy falls quite short of this target.

As Big Bill Broonzy said more than eighty years ago, and The Umbrella Academy demonstrates in season 2, if you’s white, you’ll be alright; if you’s brown, stick around; but if you’s Black…you might as well git back.

Am I still going to watch any and all future seasons of The Umbrella Academy? Absolutely. (And not just to thirst over David Castañeda as Diego, mind you.) Maybe it’s because I love messy television, but I’m still curious to see where this show goes in season 3. And, for some reason, I’m hopeful for Allison’s character in future episodes; she deserves better treatment than she’s gotten thus far.

Bridgerton Isn’t “Colorblind” At All, Actually

Header image description: A banner showing the main characters of Bridgerton in a garden. Two of the characters are Black, while the rest are white. They all wear the dress of the 19th century British elite, indicating their elevated socioeconomic status. Image credit: Netflix

If you’ve been on Twitter since Christmas, you’ve definitely heard about Bridgerton. The show is the newest member of the Shondaland empire and is the company’s first production following Shonda Rhimes’ deal with Netflix. Bridgerton is notable because it’s set in the high society of 1813 England and, well, Black people are included in that society.

On the surface, Bridgerton seems like a pretty typical example of a type of nontraditional casting known as “colorblind” casting, where the race of an actor is not necessarily considered in auditions. Well-known examples of “colorblindness” on the stage and screen include Hamilton: An American Musical, Riverdale, and Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella (the 1997 version with Brandy).

Each of these productions does “colorblindness” differently. For Hamilton, the only aspect of race considered is that all of the main characters — except for King George — are intended to be nonwhite. In Riverdale, characters that were white in the Archie comics — such as Veronica Lodge and two members of Josie and the Pussycats — are played by nonwhite actresses in the show. In the 1997 Cinderella, it seems as if race was fully ignored in the casting process.

People have expressed a myriad of problems with “colorblind” casting. Obviously, racists don’t like it because they’re racist, but we can ignore them. Historians worry that nontraditional casting leads to misunderstandings of history and papers over historical racism, while many nonwhite people note that it often feels contrived or forced, that it can be dangerous to ignore race, and that this style of casting often seems to absolve production companies of social responsibility in regards to race.

Personally, I like a good “colorblind” production — emphasis on “good.” In my opinion as both a history buff and a nonwhite cultural critic, it can be fun to see a period piece with Black people in corsets and French-style military uniforms, type 4 hair done up in fancy, intricate styles. It’s fun because the audience is able to forget, even if just for a moment, the way nonwhite and specifically Black people have been excluded from so much of society. To me, it’s a respite from the status quo of lily-white productions of classic or historical tales. “Colorblind” casting doesn’t imply that race and racism don’t exist; it’s merely a twist on what is typically done.

Image description: the main characters of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella. From left to right, you have Cinderella (played by Brandy, a Black woman); Prince Christopher (Paolo Montalbán, who is Filipino); Queen Constantina (Whoopi Goldberg, a Black woman); and King Maximillian (Victor Garber, a white man). Image credit: Disney

In my opinion, Bridgerton does not do the whole “colorblind” thing well — at all. Here’s the thing: any type of nontraditional casting is pointless if it just reinscribes stereotypes. And the show in question unfortunately does just that.

In the world of Bridgerton, most dark-skinned actors portray side characters and/or servants. One exception (kind of — he only appears in episode two) is the late Duke of Hastings, Simon’s father, who is played by a dark-skinned actor; he is pictured on the right here. However, he is irredeemably ableist, cold-hearted, and downright mean; all in all, an undeniable antagonist. The other exception is that Lady Danbury, a protagonist, is portrayed by a darker-skinned actress. All of the other Black main characters — Simon, Queen Charlotte, Marina Thompson, and Madame Delacroix — are played by light-skinned actors.

That’s all to say that Bridgerton isn’t really “colorblind.” Sure, it ignores race in terms of historical accuracy, but it certainly doesn’t ignore color — that is, skin tone. When nontraditional casting only uplifts the more privileged in a marginalized group — in this case, Black people who are privileged under colorism — it only serves to reinforce ideas about who is acceptable in that group.

Bridgerton further undermines their “colorblind” world when they inexplicably decide to explain why the racial mores of the show are so different from what we know was historically the case. In summary, Black people have been included in the high society of 1813 London because King George III’s wife, Queen Charlotte, is a Black woman. Somehow, by marrying Charlotte, the king integrated England, made interracial marriage and procreation okay, and totally destroyed racism, all in one fell swoop. If you can’t tell by my tone, their “explanation” doesn’t make sense at all.

Image description: Queen Charlotte’s court in Bridgerton. Queen Charlotte herself (center) is played by a light-skinned Black woman, while two of the people standing behind her — who never get names — are dark-skinned Black women. The other two women are white. The two dark-skinned Black women and one of the white women hold Pomeranians. Image credit: Netflix

Does Netflix think their Black viewers are Boo Boo the Fool?

It’s been fifty-six years since the Civil Rights Act of 1964 here in America and us niggas are still dealing with the same old shit. Does Shondaland really expect us to believe that in the fifty-two years between the marriage of George and Charlotte and the setting of the show, none of those hoity-toity crackers even blink twice at Black people thinking they’re equals? Attitudes do not change that quickly, and if you think otherwise…well, you’re probably white. (It should be noted that Chris Van Dusen, the creator and showrunner of Bridgerton, is a white man.)

If you’re gonna do nontraditional casting, you might as well go all out. It doesn’t have to make sense and it definitely doesn’t need to be explained — that’s kind of the point, tbh. If y’all ignored race in the casting process, then let your viewers (try to) ignore race while watching your show. We can bond over our collective thirst for Regé-Jean Page (Simon) without you bringing up racism, please and thank you.