The Power In Diversity: Fresh Shows For Generation Z Made By Millennials

What do shows such as Grown-ish and On My Block have in common? They are breaking down the misconceptions about young people of color and giving Gen Z positive reflections of themselves. And damn, that’s refreshing.

Lately, multiple shows have been created for millennials that offer a person of color’s perspective from nontraditional voices seen in television or film over the years. If you resonate with shows such as Insecure or Atlanta, it’s most likely because you grew up as an awkward, black teen who didn’t quite fit into the mold of blackness that the media portrayed.

Grown-ish is Freeform’s spinoff of ABC’s Black-ish that follows the eldest daughter Zoey Johnson, portrayed by the incomparable Yara Shahidi, as she embarks on her first year of college at the University of California. Unlike Shahidi’s actual well-rounded and confident personality, Zoey Johnson stumbles through her first year in college, attempting to navigate a world outside of her comfort zone. From the inner workings of exploring sexuality and the debate of casual drug use, this show doesn’t negate these experiences happen but also doesn’t unrealistically give these young characters a moral compass. Grown-ish actually has a fresh, honest perspective compared to other young adult/teen shows that portray characters as if they have it all figured out at the age of 17 or 18 (i.e., Riverdale or Pretty Little Liars).

Zoey, the privileged and confused fashionista; Ana (Francia Raisa), Zoey’s roommate and a conservative republican; Aaron (Trevor Jackson), the black militant; Nomi (Emily Arlook), the free-spirited, Jewish bisexual; Jazlyn and Skylar (Chloe and Halle Bailey), the track stars from Oakland; Vivek (Jordan Buhet), the Indian-American drug dealer; and Luca (Luka Sabbat), the nonchalant, anti-cool fashion prodigy, are an actual diverse set of characters that reflect the friendships that many open-minded young adults have today. In its first season, the show tends to emphasize each characters “type.” But the diversity of their differing voices still comes naturally. Grown-ish’s writers fight for realism that reflects the interests of contemporary youth; from the characters fights on Twitter to their fight for safe spaces throughout campus.

Netflix’s new comedy On My Block, on the other hand, is the story of four black and Hispanic teens from a fictional neighborhood in Los Angeles California who are entering their first year of high school. This shows subtly tackles the antics and melodrama that comes with the high school experience. On My Block portrays these witty and quirky teens in a unique way as they tackle love, acceptance and gun violence. This show focuses on the reality of having to grow up too fast when living in an environment that sees you as an adult from a young age.

The show follows Monse (Sierra Capri), the aspiring writer and lone female in her friend group; Ruby (Jason Genao), a smart yet desperate-for-love motor mouth; Jamal (Brett Gray), the nerdy realist with an inability to lie; and Cesar (Diego Tinoco), the easy going cholo despite his ties to a local gang. This show does not beat around the bush when it comes to the impending violence, the reality of their racial/socioeconomic statuses or the hyper sexuality these young students see as natural in their everyday lives. It’s not a taboo for Cesar to blindly accept his role in the gang The Santos, Jamal’s lab partner to be pregnant or even that Ruby must share a bunk bed with his two younger siblings when his “cousin” Olivia (Ronni Hawk) must move in when her parents are deported to Mexico.

On My Block is a show that tackles issues of race and poverty with comedy without making characters of color the cool sidekicks for rich white kids or depressing caricatures of horrible, hood life. Their stories aren’t bleak, and there’s no guilt wrapped into the way the writers portray each character's internal struggle. They’ll address the issues of their neighborhood, but it’s nowhere near their main storyline. This story isn’t a typical narrative of urban life but a clumsy, teen comedy that makes light of real issues like Monse’s budding sexuality, Ruby’s need for a feeling of manhood, Jamal’s urge to escape his family legacy of football stardom, and Cesar's being trapped in his family legacy of gang life. And this show doesn’t trivialize any of this.

As a young millennial who is a person of color, I remember rushing home so I wouldn’t miss Moesha, The Parkers, A Different World, or Sister, Sister. Even though the shows were before my time, it was refreshing to see someone who looked like me having a normal teen/young adult experience without being a caricature of what black people were perceived as in America. These shows addressed issues pertaining race relations but they were not the major plot lines throughout the show. They celebrated black culture and did not try to tone down the blackness for white viewer's comfort.

These shows also taught real life lessons that any teenager could relate to despite the color of their skin. They touched upon the growing pains that come with adolescence; losing friends or significant others; coming to understand right from wrong amid peer pressure; and learning from your mistakes.

We live in reboot culture, which isn’t always a bad thing. I think television executives realized how much our generation loves nostalgia and throwbacks. For a while, I feared there was nothing being made for Gen Z in terms of empowering television that truly reflects who they are today and addresses the real issues they face in their lives. Then, I watched Grown-ish and On My Block.

I’m not going to lie. Both shows are lacking in certain areas and are sometimes clumsy in their delivery. But it’s almost as if that’s the best part. It’s about brown kids not being representatives of their entire race. These characters are smart, quirky and intuitive about the world around them. Both have been renewed for a second season, and I cannot wait to see what they entail.

White America: Get Your People

“WHEN YOU’RE ACCUSTOMED TO PRIVILEGE, EQUALITY FEELS LIKE DISCRIMINATION”

This past weekend, racists took to the streets of Charlottesville, Virginia and the University of Virginia campus. I will not refer to them by any other name. They can call themselves Neo-Nazis, Alt-Right, White Nationalists, or associate themselves with the Ku Klux Klan. I will solely refer to them as racists. These individuals decided they would protest the removal of the Robert E. Lee statue in Emancipation Park and the oppression of white people in the United States of America.

They fear that Caucasians will soon become the minority and there has been an ethnic cleansing. While others are fighting for the equality of the actual minorities in this country, these racists feel as though the white race is being ignored and discriminated against. What a joke. On Friday, August 11, these white, heterosexual men and their female counterparts were not met with the same military presence of those in Ferguson, Flint or North Dakota on the UVA campus. Instead, the authorities allegedly felt it necessary to remove themselves from the situation because they “feared their lives.”

There were men walking the streets with their weapons visible, torches ablaze while angrily chanting sentiments such as, “You will not replace us,” “Jews will not replace us,” and “Whose streets? Our streets.”

The next day, they went to protest the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee at Emancipation Park. There was a police force present but they did not diffuse any violent situations or protect those who were there to combat the racists who attended this event. It was at Emancipation Park that Heather Hyer and other protesters were ran over by one of these racists. Heather Hyer died protesting hate in this country.

Now, let me explain this for those who are unaware or surprised by the events that took place in Charlottesville: racism, racists, hate speech, bigotry, etc. did not magically disappear after slavery, the civil rights movement or when Barack Obama won the presidency. Hate has always been here, especially towards brown people, in the United States and across the world.

This year especially, we have seen an influx of racists having the courage to take off their white hoods, show off their swastika tattoos, walk out in broad daylight, and spew their hateful rhetoric wherever they go. How are you a Nazi but claiming that you are patriotic and love America? The whole world legit fought against this type of thinking lol.

We are aware of this now more than ever because the technologies we are exposed to. I go on social media every single day and see a new video of some hateful person having the courage to scream at women in hijabs or call young black people the N-word to their face.

I wonder why this sudden spike in hate has come about in 2017? Oh wait, I know exactly why. Donald Trump.

I will take this to my grave: this man has incited feelings such as pride, power, rage, and courage in the heterosexual, white man. He really just strengthened their belief in an ideology they already subscribe to. His hateful rhetoric throughout his ENTIRE campaign has turned this country into absolute chaos.

In my lifetime, I never thought I would live in such a tumultuous time in history but then Donald Trump decided he would run for president. So, now here we are.

As for the so called “oppression” these men decided to protest: I am truly speechless and I clearly always have something to say. Do they know what oppression even feels like? Do they know how it feels to have to work twice as hard to get even a piece of what others have been deemed worthy of since the day they were born? Do they know how it feels to live in a country that’s infrastructure was built entirely against your existence and continues to be to this day? I figure we all know the answer to this.

Removing the statues and monuments of the racist monsters of this country’s bloody past is literally the simplest thing this country could do to come to terms with its real history. As an African American woman, it’s a slap in the face to have to live in a country that glorifies the enslavement of African people by continuing to praise men like Robert E. Lee. He's put on a pedestal as if he didn't wish to continue the murder, rape, and the plethora of atrocious acts against brown people.

White people question what the difference is between black pride and white pride. They wish to keep this part of history but refuse to come to terms with the pain this history brings to many races in this country. They believe that we are attempting to erase history by removing these shrines.

I am of African descent. My family was never in slavery and I am a first generation American in my family. I am very lucky that I can trace my roots back to where I come from. Not all black people in this country are that lucky so of course they need to be prideful in being black. Why are we glorifying a men who are a constant reminders of African people being stripped of their identity and spread across the globe?

I do not want to waste anymore of my energy addressing racists whose hateful thinking is supported by the man who is supposed to be running this country. I would like to address the people who voted for Donald Trump simply because he was the lesser of two evils in their eyes or because they support some of his policies but not all of them: This is your fault. You should have stayed home on Election Day and saved your vote.

These are the same people who continue to say they aren’t racist just because they voted for someone who refuses to condemn racists in this country. Maybe they’re not but the only thing worse than a racist in my eyes is someone who is complacent and refuses to speak up when it comes to racism in this country.

Minorities have been fighting against this type of hate since Donald Trump was elected. But now it’s your turn. I beg my white peers to not sit there when your father says something ignorant about black men being thugs. Speak up when your mother decides it’s okay to speak down to immigrants or any person of color. If you don’t agree with your friends, say something. Innocent people are losing their lives at the hands of racists and other white people need to be the ones to stand up against them.

Lastly, educate yourselves. The American schooling system has only aided the type of thinking that led to Charlottesville. We are taught to blindly love this country without being properly educated about its dark past. We are in the age of technology. It’s time for those who believe men like Robert E. Lee, Christopher Columbus, or even Thomas Jefferson are heroes to google what these men did to people who look like me.

White people need to realize that no race should have a claim over the United States of America in 2017. No white people did not build this country. White people stole it and had Africans, Asians, Mexicans, and Native people build America for them.

This has been the land of immigrants literally since Christopher Columbus landed here by accident. Everyone deserves a piece of the pie and no we do not have to get over the atrocities that our ancestors endured at the hands of Europeans. We need this country to own up to it and help us heal.

I know that there is a lot of love in this country. I see it. I know it’s there. But if we don’t do more to combat all this hate and evil, all the bad will surely win. I don’t know what these next years of the Trump presidency will entail but I do know that we need to be more vigilant.

Get off your phones. Get up and get out of your comfort zone. Have the uncomfortable conversations before it’s too late. And remember, love trumps hate.

Why I Am So Unbothered And Unapologetic

A message from a former awkward, insecure "Oreo."

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was sitting in the cafeteria with my “friends” in third grade. We moved a lot in the time span that I lived in New Hampshire. Mostly all around the southern town (That they try to claim is a city and I’m just like… no.) of Nashua so we had to change schools when changing school districts.

I was used to adapting and adjusting myself to new environments. Luckily for me, being the new girl when you are young is like being the shiny new toy, even if you are a black girl with chocolaty brown skin from the past summer and braids that were still torn up because your single mom forget to get them done for the new school year.

So, I guess you could say the “popular” girls in my class swept me up in second grade almost immediately and I had found my new “best friends”. I’m not going to lie, these girls were mean; like really mean. I remember them making a list of all the girls they did not like and why as a point reference so I didn’t associate myself with them. It was intimidating. But the insecure, black girl in me was thinking, “No one will make fun of you if you are friends with these pretty blonde haired blue eyed girls.”

Then that day in the cafeteria happened.

We were sitting around and I do not even remember the conversation. I remember the words that came out of (Let’s just call her “Ashley”. There were like seventeen Ashley’s in my grade. Guessing that was a popular name that year.) Ashley B’s mouth. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “It’s like you’re not even black. You’re like and Oreo. I love it.”

That was the last day that I ever spoke to those girls. Luckily for me, I only continued my education there for half of that year before changing schools. The next school I went to was completely different. It was almost as if white children were the minority. I didn’t know it then, but it’s because we moved to a poorer neighborhood, which was fine with me. I could relate to my friends even though most of them were Dominican or Puerto Rican. They were brown and they did not even make me feel like an outcast for being darker or speaking like I was “white” because they shared a similar experience.

Fast forward to middle school and it got even worse. We moved to an even smaller town. People were nice, I guess, but once again, I was a new girl. It gets a little harder when you’re older especially since this is when kids actually get mean. Luckily, I already knew some people so I had that advantage.

As the years passed, I realized that I had to continue my role as the “Oreo” which people chose to call me every chance they got. It’s not because I wanted to but it’s because it was how I learned to survive.

Over time, I was hardened by my experiences. I became this girl who wanted to fit in so bad she would do anything to be liked or wanted. For a while, I truly believed I was one of them. I became someone completely separate than who I truly was.

It was as if I needed validation from children who didn’t even know me. I was grateful for some of the friends I did have, because I let them into my world and showed them my aspects of myself like my African heritage.

It’s not like I didn’t have friends who were POC. But to most of them I was “too white.” My demeanor and the way I spoke left me as an outcast from all my peers whether they were white or brown.

Most of the boys in my school were either Hispanic or Black. As always, it was easier for boys. Not to say that their experience was easier, but they were accepted in a way I never could be. These boys made a joke of themselves being a POC to fit in at the expense of their dignity. Or they were accepted because of their exceptional athletic skills. White boys loved them and white girls gladly dated them.

The day I remember vividly is the day I realized I was not a part of the community I tried so hard to change myself for. It was Black History Month. I went to the guidance counselor and asked if we could do something to celebrate. She suggested we make posters. I got my sister and some of our friends together and we made posters in her office during lunch and recess. We put them up all around the school and it honestly felt good, so good. I was like, “Wow. I think these posters look great and I’m glad we can bring awareness”.

I mean, all these other clubs in school would take the time out of their lives to put up posters for Valentine’s Day or St. Patrick’s Day and those posters would stay up all month. Why couldn’t I do something for Black History Month? It’s actually a month long and it’s not like we even went into depth on black issues or anything in class.

The next day, much to my surprise, the posters were defaced. You can guess what hateful word these evil little children wrote on the posters. I cried, like really cried, while ripping the posters off the walls. That day reassured my notion that no matter how hard I wanted to fit in, it didn’t matter.

I wanted to be respected more than I wanted to be liked. There were plenty of microagressions that I experienced that were very triggering. It was in middle school that I began to start to pretend to be sick to stay hme from school because of how exhausting it was to smile in my friends faces when really I felt like crying.

In high school, it was a completely different experience. My sister and I applied to a plethora of boarding schools and college prep schools in order to better prepare ourselves for college. We attended a Catholic, college prep school in Nashua and it was a completely different scenario being surrounded by rich, white children. Not to say that everyone who attended the school was rich. Most of them just had far more privilege than me for a number of different reasons.

It was really hard for me to make friends. My sister and I were the only fully black girls in our grade. This isn’t to dismiss mixed girls blackness but their experience was very different. The first day of school I had no one to eat with and I legit ate some cookies in the bathroom then went back to class early. After a couple days, I made some friends, but it wasn’t like second grade. The pretty blonde girls did not want to play with me. They kept to themselves and I did the same.

It was little things that got to me in high school. Like when the captain of the track team told me how excited she was when two black girls decided they wanted to try out or when people made fun of my clothes because they weren’t J. Crew or Lily Pulitzer. Or when history teachers asked for my input EVERY YEAR when we talked about civil rights, Africa or anything about black people for the day that we covered it. I was not represented in any way.

I remember the day that one of my teachers crossed the line. I walked into class like any other day. He addressed me and I threw up a peace sign. He asked me, “What is that? A gang sign?” He truly thought he was being funny so I entertained it.

I laughed it off and simply said, “No, it’s a peace sign. Why do you ask?” He looked at me and said, “Well most of you people are in gangs.” I looked him in the eye and said, “What do you mean ‘you people’?”

Never in my life did I actually think that phrase would ever have to come out of my mouth. He ignored it and began to lecture. The whole class my blood was boiling. I was texting all of my friends asking them what to do. I decided I would visit the vice principal and see what could be done.

In his office, I was shaking as I spoke. I broke down as tried to explain other incidents when this teacher said offensive comments to black students. He told me he would take care of it.

For the next week, I kept asking the vice principal if he had said anything since I was sitting in this teacher’s class and this man was acting as if he had done nothing wrong. It was frustrating. Finally, the vice principal basically brushed it off one day in the hallway and said that my teacher said he didn’t mean it that way. I asked what he meant by his words then. The vice principal had to go to a meeting apparently.

Now, here we are today. Ever since I went to college, I’ve finally opened my eyes to a world outside of what I was so used to. I could freely embrace every facet of being an African American women. I was never comfortable in my blackness, ever. I died my hair and wore weave all the time. I NEVER put braids in my hair because I did not want to be made fun of. I legit wanted to save my edges so bad but never had the courage because I didn’t want someone to ask me if they were my real hair.

.

I wore makeup that was far too light for my skin and I began doing anything to try to look just like the other girls. I cried into the palm of my hand in the bathrooms so often while I was in high school. I felt like an outsider every single day until I turned 18 and I knew I was one step closer to actually getting away from such a toxic environment.

I want any brown child who was in my position to know that it’s okay to speak up against your white friends when they are wrong. It’s okay to feel uncomfortable by their blatant disrespect towards you and your being. It’s okay to help them realize that their way of thinking is not fair to you.

I wish I had the guts to stand up to people more. There were separate incidents when I did, but I would always back down when I realized that there was no one on my side. My mother always used to tell me: “It’s fine not to have a big group of friends to get you into trouble. Make sure you find three good friends.”

I wished I listened to her sometimes when I was younger wanting to have 10+ friends. Don't get me wrong, I had some great friends throughout many of these experiences who I am still friends with today. I just hope young black children know its fine not to fit in when you were born to stand out (Corny, I know. Whatever).

A lot of white people from my past think I switched up on them. A lot of them have gotten blocked on social media. Every day I notice another person who deleted me for my posts on Facebook. My posts consists of praises for the accomplishments of brown people around the world and the injustices we face as minorities.

I learned my lesson and rarely post actual Facebook statuses since being told I was racist and a terrorist for supporting Black Lives Matter (lol). Those are the people who I refuse to apologize to. Those are the people who were angry when Beyoncé came out with Formation and they realized that she was black.

I used to be their complacent Negro who never voiced my opinions. I used to post cute cat videos or post song lyrics as my status. Posting about the mistreatment of minorities in this country and across the world made them uncomfortable. That doesn’t stop me at all.

Each time one of my white peers deletes me or takes the time out of their day to speak down to me for what I post, they prove my point: Black feelings are a nuisance and triggering to people who do not realize their white privilege. The difference between me and them? I refuse to shame them for how they feel towards certain issues. If you have no connection or understanding of black feelings, it’s very easy to dismiss them. Growing up around basically all white people, I understand why they think the way they think or act the way they act.

To explain myself every single time someone has a problem with me being proud of my blackness would be far too exhausting. To the people who call me “aggressive” or “loud” or “rude” or “annoying”, I hope you take the time to read this blog post and realize why I am the way I am. I never loved myself as much I do right now. I have come so far from being that insecure “Oreo” who would do anything to fit in.

Now, I could care less if no one likes me. I speak up because I was silenced for far too long. I am unbothered and unapologetic. Get used to it.