The Minority Support: Black women aren’t angry, they’re tired


Seanna Latiff | Daily Trojan

Belligerent. Scary. Fearsome. Rude. Abrasive. Antagonistic. These are the words one would expect to use when describing a monster or something of the sort, but no. In this case, these are the words used to describe Black women. In the entertainment industry, there’s a sort of one-dimensionality associated with Black women on television and in film. It seems that the one emotion many are written to have is excessive anger, thus the Angry Black Woman trope is born. 

Though there are many different reasons the “Angry Black Woman” is alive and well, this stereotype got its start in the entertainment realm long ago, and under a completely different name: the Sapphire. Its namesake is Sapphire Stevens, a Black woman who demeaned and belittled her Black husband on the minstrel-style radio show turned sitcom “The Amos ‘n Andy Show,” created by two white men, by the way. 

This stereotype, which started as a Black woman angrily targeting Black men, quickly became the Black woman who was angry all the time. The entertainment industry saw its success and ran with it: Kim Parker from “Moesha,” Helen from “Drake and Josh,” Cookie from “Empire,” Rochelle (Chris’ mom) from “Everybody Hates Chris,” Madea from almost every Tyler Perry movie, the list goes on. And while many entertainment reporters don’t talk about it, I think it’s time, so who better to speak on the issue than Black women majoring in various aspects of the film industry at USC?

In media, we see, as described earlier, the ill-tempered, arrogant and sassy Black woman, but it’s not just a Black woman issue; it’s a dark-skinned Black woman issue. I’ve found that as people described the ABW stereotype in entertainment media, darker-skinned women were always the characters portraying it. Aziza Hutcherson, a sophomore majoring in cinema and media studies, explained her interpretation of the Angry Black Woman as such.

“They are not portrayed accurately because darker-skinned women are seen as aggressive or angry or not being delicate and feminine enough to play these certain roles,” Hutcherson said. “So that’s something that I’ve noticed … and definitely is not okay and should be called out … every chance it comes up.” 

(The ABW works hand in hand with the concept of colorism and lighter-skinned women being portrayed daintier because they were closer to white … but that’s another story.) 

But, it’s not only fictional media that curates the ABW stereotype, this trope is inescapable even in the lives of actual Black women. Non-Black people and Black men alike tend to take the stereotypical behavior of Black women on TV and film and shape their own perceptions of real women as such. This, in turn, has forced Black women to be over-cognizant of how they act in social situations, including Sasha-Mylan Williams, a sophomore majoring in interactive media and game design. 

“I do think sometimes I feel like I do have to dial it back, so I can come off to strangers or people who I just meet as a nice person instead of just going in as my normal, definitive self,” Williams said. “Until I get confirmation like, ‘Oh, this is a safe place for me.’”

And with this overanalyzing of character comes an unspoken code that many Black women seem to encounter in their lives: One shouldn’t show any vulnerability. The idea of any kind of weakness is deemed not acceptable, especially when it’s captured in films and on TV. 

For example, in the Tyler Perry movie “Madea’s Family Reunion” the protagonist, Lisa (Rochelle Aytes), tells her mother how her fiance was abusing her. Her mother, surprised, responds saying that she should “stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing to make him angry.” Lisa is then expected to carry on as if nothing occurred and push through the arranged marriage. This feeds into the stereotype that Black women are encouraged to dismiss their problems and continue with a strong persona. This perpetuated idea can have many outward effects on how Black women interact and can create chronic anxiety disorders.

Sophomore Ariann Barker, majoring in screenwriting, explained that many of their peers expected them always to have the tough or comic-relief persona, so the instance they sought console, their peers found it so out of the ordinary, they disappeared. 

“The second that I actually wanted a friend to be there for me — in a time that wouldn’t be putting on a show for them or something that they just have to consume without really being a part of — it was curtains and nobody,” Baker said.

As detrimental as this widely accepted stereotype is in social situations, it also impedes on perceptions of Black women in the professional realm, more specifically, casting. In the case of sophomore Dara Adedara, majoring in theatre with an acting emphasis, while growing up, she was never the main character, and if she was, it was always the antagonist. 

“I’ve never been, you know, the main character,” Adedara said. “If it was ‘Cinderella,’ I would have never been Cinderella. I would have been the evil stepsister. If there was ‘The Little Mermaid,’ I would have been Ursula. It’s always been those types of roles that have kind of been given to me.” 

Similarly, Kennedy Hill, a sophomore majoring in acting for the stage, screen and new media, conveyed that while she has been asked by directors to play up Black stereotypes, she wants to be defined by her ability, not her race. 

“I’m the only Black woman in my cohort,” Hill said. “[The directors] have seen my work enough that I think I’ve kind of pushed that narrative off. I’m extremely talented, I can play whatever you give me, don’t… perceive me [like] the stereotype.”

Although this stereotype is deeply ingrained in our society, there still should be a feasible way to reform it. Many Black women have said the way it should be changed is by allowing the diverse stories of Black women to be told. 

“There’s no one way to be a Black woman,” Hill said. “We have to constantly go against the grain and show ‘I’m the awkward Black girl. I’m the edgy Black girl. I’m the Black girl that skates. I’m the Black girl that listens to Taylor Swift’ … Just because I’m Black doesn’t mean that I have to stick to your certain lens of myself.” 

In the same vein, other Black women, including Williams, want to stray away from the tragic plots we normally see like police brutality, gang violence and poverty. She hopes to create films where Black women get to be in stories never before seen. 

“We don’t need to see that story told because we lived it,” Williams said. “Let’s see a story that not everyone gets to see where white people get to be quirky, fall in love, go on adventures, be the hero and all this, and it’s like [for Black people], ‘I got shot by a police officer, or I experienced slavery. And that’s my story.’”

If white audiences can see a movie where they are represented in every space, Black audiences should as well. While there are large franchises like “Harry Potter” and “Lord of the Rings,” Black women have yet to be seen and popularized in that realm, which many find aggravating. 

“I’ve never seen a Black female in a fantasy world,” Williams said. “I’ve never seen a made-up fictional fantasy world where she’s a wizard … fighting some dark evil force that isn’t a white man police officer.”

Black women in media shouldn’t be forced into the angry box and should be given layers like every other person. It’s never been about keeping a type of character alive, it’s about perpetuating harmful cliches, and it’s time for the entertainment industry to take notes. Must be the reason Issa Rae’s “Insecure” is so refreshing, huh?

Marlize Duncan is a sophomore writing about overlooked USC Black and Indigenous creatives and creatives of color tackling the intersection of their work & minority social issues. Her column, “The Minority Support” typically runs every other Tuesday.