Diet Black People: How Black Film Classics Highlight Misogynoir
When my Intro to Sociology teacher turned on Boyz n The Hood for our unit on nature vs nurture, I was interested. Though I admit my professor was suboptimal when discussing topics of race, I thought the movie choice was a smart one. I was further removed than most Black people from the black film classic. I knew of it but never had the opportunity to watch the film. Even so, Iâd heard Boyz n The Hood was one of the best black films of its generation. Imagine my surprise then, when we watch the film, and it's⊠a chauvinistâs smorgasbord. The film was supposedly about the plight of down-on-their-luck black boys dealing with the gang violence of LA, yet I could see nothing past the fact that Ice Cube called Regina King a bitch every time she was in the room. In fact, each of the protagonists of Boyz n The Hood uses the words bitch and ho to reference women almost exclusively; it is exceedingly difficult to find any other word that is ever used for black women in the entire 112-minute run time.
Though thereâs some attempt to acknowledge the boyâs sexism, in the ways of black female characters lamenting their behavior, ultimately, the girls lose the argument, and the scenes move on. The women in the film we are meant to respect are only available to the protagonists as sexual conquests or as utilitarian tools the boys use to cry on to exemplify the fact men have emotions.
Boyz n The Hood is a film that is described as vital in understanding the Black American experience. With this in mind, then, obviously, it should be uplifting for more than just half the black population, but Boyz n The Hood is a film about the black manâs burden, a theme that saturates most black classics. This on its own isnât a bad thing; Boyz n The Hood discusses black fathers and their obligation to their children that is, too often, not met. It is hard to describe why Boyz in The Hood is one of many examples of the faults lying in the depths of black film classics, but black women are also deeply affected by fatherlessness. Yet, every movie, show, and story told about the topic only focuses on its effect on black boyhood as if their female counterparts are nonexistent. This is only reinforced by the filmâs disregard for black women and their value.
Boyz in Da Hood attempts to enfranchise the black voice by putting a story of black humanity on screen, but it reaffirms the subjugation of black women while doing so, guaranteeing that its viewers will come out of the film thinking the black manâs triumph is a triumph for the entire race even when those black men are actively suppressing every black woman they encounter to such a degree their mind canât conjure a word other than bitch to describe them. Or, in other words, Black women are diet black people. Dietâas in diluted, as in technically, as in theory, but not as in practice.
Angela Davis believed misogynoir (the intersection between racism and misogyny black women experience) is a logical fallacy. You cannot be pro-black without valuing all black people, and with us continuing the discrimination of half the population, something must be amiss. Yet here we are, misogynoir sentiments have been introduced, reinforced, and internalized by African Americans to such a degree that our art reflects it.
I wondered why these are âBlack classics.â We donât call them âBlack menâs classicsâor âBlackDick flicks;â these movies are seen as hallmarks of black culture, the bread and butter of our cinema. So in my head, I began to play a game. I tried to name a black classic that wasnât full of a black manâs success at a black womanâs expense in any way.
My search to find black classics that cared about respecting more than just half of the black population started with the obvious first choice. Movies with black female protagonists; but, these films also contained disconcerting tropes. Black classics with black women at the forefront rely heavily on trauma porn narratives. From The Color Purple to Precious to Set it Off, it is extremely difficult to find movies that do not include rape or sexual abuse. It is staggering to witness movies depicting black menâs achievement, power, and emotional satisfaction then pivot to movies depicting black women and their morose. Films with black women emphasize showing the woes black women face without challenging the ideas that cause their disenfranchisement in any significant way. These stories identify the pain of black women but never take a stance on rebuking misogynoir or even acknowledging the pain that comes from intersectionality, which could be addressed.
The last movies I dissected on my journey were the classics closest to my heart. There was no cable for me, the poor girl whose only babysitter was the tub of bootleg DVDs her dad had bought off a homeless man in front of the CVS. $50 for a chest of what had to be at least a hundred movies burned illegally. Those bootlegs introduced me to the king of African American dramedy classics: Tyler Perry. Itâs painful to reconcile my understanding of the harm Tyler Perryâs movies have had on the black community with my own rose-colored nostalgia. Tyler Perryâs character of Madea was a cultural phenomenon so potent it broke the racial barrier that even the average white person has at least heard of her. Tyler Perry is not the first conduit of misogynoir this world has seen, but he is arguably the one whoâs seen the most success off this tactic in, having 11 movies, 15 stage play productions, and a 1 billion dollar net worth. Tyler Perry seems to be incapable of writing a black woman who doesn't fall into the three minstrel stereotypes: The Jezebel, The Sapphire, and the Mammy, respectively.
The Jezebel was hypersexual to defend the sexual violence they had suffered at the hands of white men during slavery and to contrast the dainty sexual purity of their white opposites. The Sapphire (more commonly known as the angry black woman) was depicted as rude, loud, and overbearing; this was to hypermasculinize black women and make them seem undesirable. The Mammy was used to justify white upper-class households' reliance on the domestic labor of black women by making them simple-minded, maternal figures. Madea is the perfect amalgamation of the Minstrel Black woman trifecta. Sheâs loud and obnoxious, masculinizes every man she comes into contact with, and never fails to mention the bountiful sexual escapades of her youth.
One of the reasons I think Tyler Perry has been so successful, despite the obvious misrepresentation of black women, is because he is a black man. It canât be racist because heâs black, too, and sexism is diet racism, so it doesnât really matter at all. On top of that, Perry makes sure Madea isnât villainized. Madea is used for dramedy; she is the levity in films about generational trauma, abuse, and making your way in the world. She defends women who are abused by their spouses and gives pep talks. Who could ever look at that and say, âThatâs bad,â but none of Tyler Perryâs talent for writing can cover how he utilizes black female characters as a conduit for his own sexist values.
To his credit, Tyler Perry wasnât the last; in fact, he wasnât even the first. Madea made her first appearance in a play in 1999. But before her was Jamie Foxx as Wanda Jackson in 1990âs Living in Color. Then came Martin Lawrence as Sheneneh Jenkinsâ in the 1992 hit comedy Martin. Eddy Murphy was the female relative of the Nutty Professor in 1996âs The Nutty Professor. Eddy Murphy was, again, a Rasputia in 2007âs Norbit.
You may be thinking, âThis doesnât only happen to black women; they cross-dress in comedy to play white women as well,â so what is it? What distinguishes Martin and Living in Color from White Chicks and Mrs. Doubtfire? Well, for one, it doesnât happen as often. The fact that I could only really come up with two examples that were culturally relevant enough to mention while also not being actual drag says a lot. But the most telling aspect that sets the two apart is that inevery instance of comedians crossdressing as white women, the narrative acknowledges they are men masquerading. In Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams cross-dresses to spend time with his children. In White Chicks, detectives Marcus Copeland and Kevin Copeland cross-dress to solve a case. In Bosom Buddies, Tom Hanks cross-dresses to get housing. When Dustin Hoffman cross-dresses in Tootsie, itâs to reinvent himself for his dream job. In every case, weâre aware these are men playing women, not women who just happen to be played by male actors. The narrative acknowledges their true gender through dramatic irony and even a reveal at the end. Every time one of these characters violates a social norm most women adhere to, itâs because we know they are men and thatâs where the comedy comes from. In the case of something like Madea, those are women. The characters in the cannon lore are actual women. They could be replaced by cis female actors, and the plot would remain unchanged. So when again and again and again these women are ridiculed as ghetto or hoes or the butt of jokes, itâs asserting that black women, themselves, are those things. In every instance, it is a comedy. In every instance, it is blatant defamation. These women arenât admired, beautiful, smart, or kind. They are dumb and ugly. All are rife with stereotypes that have followed black women since blackface. This is not drag, which uplifts and hyperbolizes femininity to make art. This is minstrelsy, made to humiliate. The black women these men cosplay are hyper-sexualized, hyper-masculinized, and, of course, poorly written. They are emotionally unregulated, socially inept, and utterly undesirable, and I am so, so tired. Exhausted evenâŠand we still have more to go.
The internet revitalized minstrelsy in a way you wonât notice unless you were young and black in the early 2010s. Slurs were rampant because of alleged anonymity; some of the internet's most successful comedians grew their platforms off of racism, and suddenly, joking about watermelon and fried chicken was the funniest thing ever. From the depths came a familiar song, profiting off of the defamation and parody of black girls. Off the top of my head, I can name characters like Watermolndrea played by Tre Melvin, who at his height got 20 million views per video, and Starkiesha played by Cameron J, who at his height got 47 million views per video. And that was just my generation; Gen Alpha has new comedians doing the same thing as Terry Reloaded, who is extremely popular on TikTok with 7.7 million followers and 364.4M likes. All of these men cosplay black women telling the same tired joke: that black women are loud and ghetto.
The moral of the story is: if youâre a black guy who can afford a shitty wig and is willing to let white people in on a joke you're telling at your mother, sister, and daughterâs expense, you will be extremely successful in doing so.
It is very telling that one of the only times black women have visibility in the media is when black men are cross-dressing to play them. To be clear, the satirization of black women for entertainment has been with us since black face, but with a new racial conscious society, weâve found new ways to have black women be the butt of jokes in a more âacceptableâ way. That being, if black men are the ones doing it, itâs okay. Because black women are diet black people, black men outrank them in black identity; when a black man cosplays a black woman, we have the ability to indulge in racist stereotypes that have been with us since slavery while also being absolved from guilt of being racist ourselves. Ultimately, this trope reaffirms that black women can be openly disrespected without guilt. If this open disregard was shown toward black men, as a society, there would be, at the very least, the acknowledgment of racism; when the victims are black women, however, the lines somehow become blurred. The fact African Americans, themselves, join in laughing at the joke gives the message to other demographics that prejudice is only intolerable when itâs wielded against actual black people, and black women are not.
The critical examination of classic black films reveal a troubling pattern of misogyny, the devaluation of black women within the black community, and its cultural representation. The prevalent portrayal of black women as secondary and disposable, often subject to objectification and violence, underscores a persistent issue of misogynoirâa blend of racism and misogyny. Despite the undeniable contributions of black women, their experiences and voices are frequently marginalized in the media. The pervasive nature of these themes in celebrated black classics, often regarded as hallmarks of black culture, raises fundamental questions about the true representation of black identity and the need for a more inclusive,equitable narrative that values and uplifts all members of the African American community.
Sources:
Singleton, John, director. Boyz n Da Hood. Columbia Pictures, 1991.
Perry, Tyler, director. Diary of a Mad Black Woman. Lionsgate, 1999.
Spielberg Steven, director. The Color Purple. Warner Brothers, 1985.
Lee Daniels, director. Precious. Tyler Perry Studios, 2009.
F Gary Gray, director. Set it Off. New Line Cinema, 1977
Robbins, Brian, director. Norbit. Davis Entertainment, 2007.
Whitesell, John, director. Big Momma's House, 2000.
âThe Sapphire Caricature.â Jim Crow Museum, jimcrowmuseum.ferris.edu/antiblack/sapphire.htm. Accessed 6 Aug. 2024.
âThe Mammy Caricature.â Jim Crow Museum, jimcrowmuseum.ferris.edu/mammies/homepage.htm. Accessed 6 Aug. 2024. âTrĂ© Melvin.â YouTube, YouTube, www.youtube.com/@TreMelvin. Accessed 6 Aug. 2024.
âRandom Structure TV.â YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCVNjPml7N3I4m9IpBVkHRpg. Accessed 6 Aug. 2024.
âTerry Reloaded.â YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMH9RNE6ZL2iXR8QBvF4x8w. Accessed 6 Aug. 2024.
âTyler Perry.â Wikipedia, 29 July 2024. Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Tyler_Perry&oldid=1237410984.
Trinity Giddings
