idea to do a web series about what it’s like to be black at Stanford University. Stanford really opened my eyes to how diverse we are as a people, 3 and it was so refreshing to witness. I rounded my friends together, borrowed a camera from the library, and wrote a script. The next week, I edited it and posted it to Facebook and watched as it spread not only throughout my school, but at other top schools like Duke, Harvard, and Georgetown. People exclaimed that it reflected their college experience and marveled at how relatable it was. I couldn’t believe the series had spread and that people who didn’t attend my school were watching and enjoying. Having direct access to an audience that appreciated my work was an epiphany for me.
In the meantime, I felt surrounded by the mainstream media’s negative images of black women. This was all prior to the promising Shonda Rhimes takeover of Thursday nights, so as the negative portrayal of women in reality television broadened its boundaries, I grew angry, resentful, and impatient. How hard is it to portray a three-dimensional woman of color on television or in film? I’m surrounded by them. They’re my friends. I talk to them every day. How come Hollywood won’t acknowledge us? Are we a joke to them?
Now, having been in the industry for a couple of years, I’m not entirely sure it’s blatant racism, as I had once assumed. It’s more complicated than that. As Ralph Ellison once posited, we’re invisible to them. We’re simply not on their radar. As long as the people who are in charge aren’t us, things will never change.
Girls , New Girl , 2 Broke Girls . What do they all have in common? The universal gender classification, “girl,” is white. In all three of these successful series, a default girl (or two) is implied and she is white. That is the norm and that is what is acceptable. Anything else is niche.
If it weren’t for YouTube, I would be extremely pessimistic, but I’m not anymore. YouTube has revolutionized content creation. If it weren’t for YouTube, I would still be at studios trying to convince executives that Awkward Black Girls really do exist. If it weren’t for YouTube, I would have been indefinitely discouraged by the network executive who suggested that actress/video girl/Lil Wayne’s baby’s mother, Lauren London, would be a great fit for the title character of a cable version of Awkward Black Girl. If it weren’t for social media, I don’t know that black women would even be a fully formed blip on the radar. If it weren’t for internet forums and fan pages, communities of dark women wouldn’t be empowered by their natural hair in a media society that tells them their hair should be straightened and their skin should be lighter.
Online content and new media are changing our communities and changing the demand for and accessibility of that content. The discussion of representation is one that has been repeated over and over again, and the solution has always been that it’s up to us to support, promote, and create the images that we want to see. Ten years ago, making that suggestion would have required way more work than it does now, and my love of taking shortcuts probably wouldn’tallow me to make any dents on that front. But with ever-evolving, new accessible technologies, there are so many opportunities to reclaim our images. There’s no excuse not to, and I’ve never felt more purposeful in my quest to change the landscape of television.
At the time I came up with the concept for ABG, I was just a clumsy, frustrated, socially inept, recently graduated adult, looking for confirmation that I wasn’t alone. No, I didn’t think I was a monster or vampire, Junot; it wasn’t that deep. But at some level, as each new model for social media strives to connect us in new, paradoxically estranged ways, there exists a consistent core, the human desire to feel included. Whether you’re an awkward black girl or an irritated disabled
In the meantime, I felt surrounded by the mainstream media’s negative images of black women. This was all prior to the promising Shonda Rhimes takeover of Thursday nights, so as the negative portrayal of women in reality television broadened its boundaries, I grew angry, resentful, and impatient. How hard is it to portray a three-dimensional woman of color on television or in film? I’m surrounded by them. They’re my friends. I talk to them every day. How come Hollywood won’t acknowledge us? Are we a joke to them?
Now, having been in the industry for a couple of years, I’m not entirely sure it’s blatant racism, as I had once assumed. It’s more complicated than that. As Ralph Ellison once posited, we’re invisible to them. We’re simply not on their radar. As long as the people who are in charge aren’t us, things will never change.
Girls , New Girl , 2 Broke Girls . What do they all have in common? The universal gender classification, “girl,” is white. In all three of these successful series, a default girl (or two) is implied and she is white. That is the norm and that is what is acceptable. Anything else is niche.
If it weren’t for YouTube, I would be extremely pessimistic, but I’m not anymore. YouTube has revolutionized content creation. If it weren’t for YouTube, I would still be at studios trying to convince executives that Awkward Black Girls really do exist. If it weren’t for YouTube, I would have been indefinitely discouraged by the network executive who suggested that actress/video girl/Lil Wayne’s baby’s mother, Lauren London, would be a great fit for the title character of a cable version of Awkward Black Girl. If it weren’t for social media, I don’t know that black women would even be a fully formed blip on the radar. If it weren’t for internet forums and fan pages, communities of dark women wouldn’t be empowered by their natural hair in a media society that tells them their hair should be straightened and their skin should be lighter.
Online content and new media are changing our communities and changing the demand for and accessibility of that content. The discussion of representation is one that has been repeated over and over again, and the solution has always been that it’s up to us to support, promote, and create the images that we want to see. Ten years ago, making that suggestion would have required way more work than it does now, and my love of taking shortcuts probably wouldn’tallow me to make any dents on that front. But with ever-evolving, new accessible technologies, there are so many opportunities to reclaim our images. There’s no excuse not to, and I’ve never felt more purposeful in my quest to change the landscape of television.
At the time I came up with the concept for ABG, I was just a clumsy, frustrated, socially inept, recently graduated adult, looking for confirmation that I wasn’t alone. No, I didn’t think I was a monster or vampire, Junot; it wasn’t that deep. But at some level, as each new model for social media strives to connect us in new, paradoxically estranged ways, there exists a consistent core, the human desire to feel included. Whether you’re an awkward black girl or an irritated disabled
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