When Black Panther came out in February 2018, it broke box-office records and mainstream expectations. It was highly praised for its revolutionary cinematic realization, ranging from the creation of the high-tech kingdom of Wakanda to the brilliant performance of its actors. Yet, most conversations focused on its commitment to representation, with an almost exclusively Black cast. Similarly, the release of A Wrinkle in Time in March received praise from critics for its diverse representation of women of colour. Crazy Rich Asians, which came out in August, was deemed a “breakthrough in representation” by Time Magazine, due to its all Asian and Asian-American cast. The list of movies acclaimed for their diversity goes on. On-screen representation has evidently gained power in how we conceptualize anti-oppressive discourse; we constantly use movies and shows, not only for entertainment, but as an integral part of our activism. Admittedly, representation in the media has advantages: it serves to raise awareness and break down stigmas about marginalized groups of people, and starts conversations about oppression in accessible ways. These positive aspects have allowed representation to often be valued over other forms of activism, and it is now seen as an essential path to an equal society.
Representation in the media has advantages: it serves to raise awareness and break down stigmas about marginalized groups of people, and starts conversations about oppression in accessible ways.
However, advocating solely for representation supposes that representation in mainstream Western media will improve the lives of marginalized people. The rhetoric behind these calls for representation is that the inclusion of marginalized people in mainstream media, through the telling of meaningful stories, is meant to be empowering. Yet this assumption is made without any real empirical proof. Yes, representation is essential to a diverse society and, yes, representation today is infinitely better than two decades ago. However, while it is true that seeing Muslim women on TV can help reduce Islamophobic stigma, there is a difference between the positive impact that this representation has and the actual socio-economic benefits that it fails to create. The increasing presence of Muslim people in the media we consume did not reduce the rates of Islamophobic incidents in the United States or the level of employment discrimination they face. Similarly, while the recent representation of trans people in mainstream media through celebrities like Laverne Cox, or characters like Nomi on Sense8, does contribute to a deconstruction of the stereotypes about trans people, it did not prevent the number of deaths of transgender people in the United States from reaching an all-time high in 2017.
When activists rally around the idea that representation matters, they essentially advocate for large-scale, mainstream, Western-centric representation that will do little but make marginalized people relatable to dominant culture. Therefore, media like A Wrinkle in Time and Sense8, which are acclaimed for their portrayals of people of colour, are also produced with the enjoyment of white people in mind. Systemic oppression comes from the belief that white, Western culture is superior to others, and should have supremacy over other cultures. Our representation in mainstream media can therefore feel like a liberating experience, not just because we recognize ourselves, but because we receive the recognition we crave from the very people who alienate us. The creation of diverse stories in a media industry that is inherently oppressive isn’t liberating; it only attempts to fix a superficial aspect of systemic oppression by promoting diversity in the most visible spheres of society. Movies like Crazy Rich Asians or Love, Simon, which are hailed as “good representation” by mainstream coverage, do not bring anything revolutionary to the table. When these movies feature people of colour and LGBTQ+ people, but only present a representation based on white, Western, heterosexist storylines, they do not affect any change on society. If the representation we so often call for can only come through an oppressive mainstream platform, it is unclear how it can ever be liberating in itself.
However, while it is true that seeing Muslim women on TV can help reduce Islamophobic stigma, there is a difference between the positive impact that this representation has and the actual socio-economic benefits that it fails to create.
Additionally, representation in movies and shows is by definition temporary, and therefore only relevant for a limited amount of time. This impermanence prevents representation from creating long-lasting change. The momentum that surrounds certain TV shows and movies is nice while it lasts, but ultimately also enables people to consider themselves “allies” for having watched shows like Black-ish and Orange is the New Black. While it is exciting to see marginalized people excel on screen, the temporary nature of representation in mainstream media hinders anti-oppressive actions. In a capitalist system, representation also results in the commodification of resistance, rather than the creation of systemic change. When activists raise questions of diversity and oppression in society, capitalism manages to absorb these criticism and turn them into profitable media that will satisfy our desire for representation, without changing anything meaningfully. The movie industry makes billions of dollars every year, and the inclusion of representation stems from the knowledge that it will sell, not from an explicit desire to end the oppression of marginalized people. Oppressive media that exist within Western society creates, and funds, oppressive types of representation. This co-optation of the criticism of a sexist, homophobic, white supremacist, capitalist society through the creation of “quick-fix,” temporary representations does not achieve anything significant.
In a capitalist system, representation also results in the commodification of resistance rather than the creation of systemic change.
This is not to say representation shouldn’t be something we advocate for, but this supremacy of representation as an end goal rather than a tool in our activism is misleading and inefficient. The idea that representation can be an end in itself, rather than a means to an end, is not only deeply flawed, but also helps maintain the systemic alienation that marginalized people face in Western countries. Representation in an oppressive media system for the consumption of privileged people can’t be our sole aim. Effective resistance requires empowerment and real change, not just media representation. We also cannot co-opt radical criticism by advocating for representation in movies and shows without examining the systemic problems that create this oppression in the first place. The social, political and economic alienation of marginalized people, of people of colour, of LGBTQ+ people, of people with mental illnesses is not solely due to a lack of visibility; it comes from historical institutionalization of racism, sexism, homophobia, and ableism in Western society. When we, as activists, ignore this reality, we essentially enable oppressors to ignore it as well. Anti-oppressive initiatives should aim further than “representation in the media,” and if this advocacy for representation prevents us from creating meaningful change, then we need to stop giving it so much importance.