So I’ve watched Blackish since it came on air. Not because it’s the best thing since television, but because I grew up watching happy Black families and I will try out anything once which fits this premise. The social commentary–which picked up over time–was the spice I needed to keep on watching. And Tracee Ellis Ross’s wardrobe, my GAWD.
BlackAF was initially attractive to me as a parody of Blackish, but then I saw all the negative feedback, most of my vocal friends hated it and I thought it was over between the show and me. And then a few faves told me they loved it. Now I was intrigued. How could this one show be sooo polarizing for Black people? I could write a dissertation about #BlackAF, but instead I’ll keep to what I hated and loved about it, the major issues the show raised for Black audiences, and how it could improve for Season 2.
I definitely hated episodes 1 and 2 enough that I wanted to crawl out of my second story bedroom window in order to escape them. The acting, the scripts, none of it worked for me. But midway through episode 3, I was sold. I understand this happens with a lot of shows, but I think it can still be avoided.
You must note, this is not a show to watch to understand what Black people are like. Or a show to teach Black children how to treat their parents. Or how to spend your money. This is not a show you watch for guidance.
“#blackAF” is a messy show about the mess of making television… [Barris’ creative choices] gives “#blackAF” a television-for-television-writers appeal.
Doreen St. Felix, New Yorker
“Am I Trash?”
Warning, I’m biased. Barris, as himself, demands more honest Black critique of Black art. For me, anyone who genuinely welcomes solid critique is good in my book, because, like me, that person acknowledges their limitations as an artist or creator and accepts that they’ll never please everyone, but they need to do what is true for them in the moment. Here I am building a movement to help Black consumers engage critically with Black films and then the Black creator of the moment says exactly what I feel for all the world to hear: WE NEED MORE CRITIQUE OF BLACK ART. We need to be rigorously honest, even if lovingly, so that all our shit can improve. How do we accept critique and give critique in order to produce more flawless, visionary art?
Here’s a reminder for everybody that Black folks 1- don’t have to all like the same things. 2- don’t have to all like what other Black folks create 3- don’t need any shows or films to capture the full Black experience, or be a monument to universal Blackness. Since we all know that there are as many ways to be Black as there are grains of sand, it actually doesn’t matter if this show captures my Black experience. The fact that it doesn’t is more reinforcement for us to find and distribute more of our own unique and global content, and not to wait for some old white Hollywood gatekeeper to determine whether or not our stories are worthy of distribution.
Now, the Name
Is he saying that the characters of Blackish aren’t truly Black? Is he saying that the characters of Grownish aren’t really grown? Is he saying that his family is as Black as it gets? Or is he referencing the ownership of these terms and these “statuses” and the complexities that go along with them? Is he telling us what it means to be BlackAF? Or is he asking us as viewers to raise these questions and interrogate them and the characters he’s brought into our lives?
Comparisons to Blackish
I don’t see BlackAF as the same thing as Blackish, at all. BlackAF is much more rigorous in interrogating the status quo, in unseating white power. It takes risks that ABC could literally never afford to allow. All of America would be up in arms if Broadway had said “a face you like to shoot” on network television. Or if Kenya talked about how white people can’t survive being in the sun.
Casting
If our freak outs over Rashida Jones’ casting has shown anything, it’s that there is a contentious debate about who gets to be Black, and of course, moreso, who gets to be BlackAF. I don’t think Barris meant literally to communicate that he or his family are the epitome of Blackness.
Some people felt excluded by that label because they didn’t see themselves in his story, at least not in a positive light. Just like he didn’t mean half of the script to be taken literally. The show did an incredible job of raising questions. Those are the questions we should be debating.
Who gets to be Black AF? As a Nigerian-born, Missouri-raised, Brooklyn-formed eternal immigrant, I don’t ask permission to claim my Blackness, and I don’t think anyone else should. The kind of Black people I love are those who are consistent in identifying with their heritage, their people, have deep pride in their hue and ancestral heritage, and are committed to the upliftment of all Black people. I wish this could be Webster’s definition of Blackness. But I don’t get to decide that. Because I’m one of 1.4 billion Black people on this planet.
I have many thoughts on the additional social commentary in this show, but in the interest of space and spice, I’ll save those for our Netflix & Chat.
Room for improvement
Other than episodes 3 and 4, the funnies were minimal. I was consistently screaming through episode 4 such that I feared the neighbors would knock on my door. But there was a downhill slope in the comedy after that, as the show veered into drama territory. This may have been intentional. I’m not someone who’d say a show can only be comedy or drama. In fact, I liked the fact that it transitioned between the two. But because the good funnies were so hard-hitting, I just want more of them.
I’d love to see a richer engagement with other types of Blackness. I’m not sure that Barris is ready to dig into intra-racial friction, ie that between Africans and African Americans, but it’s clear from hints at the issue in both Blackish and Black AF that it’s something he thinks a lot about.
Overall, I think #BlackAF is not for everybody. It’s for those who like radical dry humor, self-examination and who can appreciate satire. And if you’re looking for strategies on how to apologize to your wife, this is one hell of a way to do so.
xo,
Lolade
PS: Please watch this TI interview with Barris, it’s one of the most honest interviews I’ve ever seen.
This article talks about Barris’ trauma and why he writes about his life so much.
