(Essay) Sister, Sister: Mending the Image of Black Womanhood in Film and Television

By Brooklyn Anderson

Being a Black girl in the suburban-midwest during the 2005-late 2010s era of Disney Channel and Nickelodeon means that spending countless hours at the foot of our TV stand was my normal, much like many of my peers. Season after season, we tuned in every week at 8/7c to watch the seemingly “normal” lives of whoever stopped by our houses those nights. I continued through the seasons and episodes of my life, noticing my plot points and story arcs were written with different undertones than the friends I invited into my home week after week. Their “normal” was anything but in my eyes, the way my story unfolded made it harder for the time we spent together to feel how it felt before my life stopped imitating their art. At 22 years old, I write the stories and build the characters I wish stopped by my house. I write my way into the normal I wish I would’ve seen on my screen.

It is because of how little I saw myself in the “normal” of these syndicated stories, that I’ve taken refuge in the margins of my own. Black women and girls around the world experience an identity crisis every time we watch depictions of our likeness that don’t align with the truth. We have been typecast as the Sapphire, the Mammy, and the Sassy Black Friend: tropes perpetuating the chronic miseducation of the masses about Black Womanhood — antiquated stereotypes and characterizations void of any nuance or context to aid in the understanding of who we are.

It is within the margins of my Black girl suburban-midwestern experience that I forged friendships with characters who saw me for me. As I exited adolescence and entered young adulthood, these relationships were few and far in between. I drifted along in life, existing as a side character in my own story, until my mother put a book in my hand and I made a new friend. Awkward Black Girl was a well established staple by the time I started reading through the misadventures in Issa Rae’s memoir, and Insecure was well into their 3rd season. Even though I was late to the function, Issa Dee, Molly Carter, Tiffany DuBois, and Kelli Prenny embraced me fully. These characters painted a picture of life for Black women I hadn’t seen since my early days of watching Girlfriends reruns. I felt seen, I felt heard, but most importantly I felt loved — and inspired to spread the love I felt to as many of my sisters in this struggle as possible.

I want to bring us all to the table built by the friends who came before me, with the friends I’ve made along the way. I want to write my way onto the living room couches of my community, and speak directly to the women and girls who are so desperately looking for a voice, and a friend. I want to continue the amazing work already being done to reshape what “normal” looks like, so that all perspectives are represented. I want more people to see themselves in the lives they watch on screen, and be able to see parallels between their life and the art it may imitate. I want more quality time with the Issa Dees, the Zoey Johnsons, and the Doc McStuffins of the world. My goal is to foster friendships between viewer and character so that no one will feel as I did, where after a while the friends I invited in every week became strangers in my house. My impact will be felt by the amount of new friends we share our new normals with every week, each plot point and character arc in each episode and season more indicative of who we are, our authentic selves.