Racebending and Representation (and How They're Different)
Samuel L. Jackson - Marvel/Disney
Diversity and representation in film is often a nebulous concept, the discussion around which generally involves a simple acknowledgement that there ought to be more. As a result, solutions to the issue of Hollywood’s lacking diversity involve, simply, presenting more people of color on screen, regardless of whether or not the roles they take on promote diversity at all. Racebending has become one of these methods, and is in some ways indicative of a positive movement towards having a more inclusive filmic space. In other ways, however, it can end up promoting backwards messages concerning race and inclusivity in society. Perhaps it is time to move beyond reiterating the vague statement that there should be more diversity in film and explore what a proper diversification of filmic spaces might entail.
Racebending refers to the reinterpretation of a fictional character as a different race, and typically grants roles initially written or performed by White characters to people of color. When used appropriately, it diversifies a space that has otherwise been made up of a predominantly White population. Many book and comic series, for instance, have adopted this method of promoting diversity through their subsequent film adaptations, with the superheroes of the Marvel and DC universes at the forefront of the movement. Characters such as Nick Fury and Deadshot have been reworked from their original Caucasian identities to allow for more representation of people of color within their franchises and have maintained their positions as beloved figures. The flip side of this concept, i.e. taking roles away from people of color and appropriating them for White actors, is termed whitewashing and generally regarded as a different matter entirely.
In most cases, racebending has had some severe pushback from fans who believe that characters ought to remain consistent with the way they were originally written. It’s difficult to think of someone like Nick Fury, who is now almost always associated with renowned actor Samuel L. Jackson, as being scorned for being Black, but, according to an article published by The Independent, the casting of Samuel L. Jackson caused quite a bit of controversy among fans of the comic series. Because the Nick Fury of the original comics is White, despite being later reimagined in 2002 as Black and actually designed after Jackson himself, Jackson’s role as Nick Fury led to outrage among many die-hard fans who believed that Fury should ‘remain’ Caucasian. The article notes that the arguments opposing this casting choice are much the same as those surrounding actress Amandla Stenberg in her role as Rue in the 2012 film The Hunger Games, despite the character being explicitly stated within its canon as African-American.
In many ways, the backlash itself is the most compelling argument in favor of racebending, for it reveals the anglo-normativity that exists in viewership. Samuel L. Jackson cannot be Nick Fury because his very presence is disruptive to the status quo of White dominion on screen, same as Amandla Stenberg. So then if roles of importance are largely written for and given to White actors, and if alarming numbers of viewers support this antiquated hegemony, the solution for POC should be to racebend as much as possible, right?
Not necessarily. Eileen Gonzalez, an author and writer for Book Riot, makes a thorough analysis of how racebending has been used in superhero movies, and analyzes ways in which racebending itself has had negative effects on characters of different racial identities as well, highlighting the tendency for evil villains to be racebent for Latinx cast members. Thus, the roles given to Latinx actors only perpetuate the already-negative societal stereotypes associated with Latinx people.
Moreover, even when racebending is used for roles of positive influence, it often ends up perpetuating racial stereotypes regardless. Take for instance Disney’s 2009 film The Princess and the Frog, which adapts the well-known fairytale of the Frog Prince to a setting in New Orleans, Louisiana, and racebends the protagonist, Princess Tiana, to be the first – and so far only – African-American Disney princess ever. Her impact for young audiences worked much like Miles Morales’s as mentioned previously, yet there is still debate on whether the film as a whole moves towards or against encouraging stereotypes.
An analysis of the problematic undertones was done by two students of the University of Colorado, in which they took note of Tiana’s role as a servant to her friend Charlotte La Bouff, an affluent White woman, in addition to the fact that this so-lauded first Black Disney princess spends the majority of the film as a frog. Not only do Tiana and her mother fit in with the mammy archetype of loyal and obliging servants, but Charlotte also effectively functions as a White saviour character. When she gives up her supposed love for Prince Naveen for Tiana’s sake, her “sacrifice” is nothing short of a typical Disney heroism, the only caveat being that it is unsuccessful. Ultimately they make the argument that “instead of confronting the realities of racism, [Disney movies] instill racist storylines that enhance power and privilege to White protagonists.” The fact remains that racebending is often used as an end-all-be-all to the “problem” of diversifying mainstream Hollywood.
This is not to say that having a marginalized protagonist necessitates a plot centered around said marginalization. As impactful as Black Panther was upon its release, it is not a requirement for narratives involving POC to be inherently structured around race. That said, race is a real construct that affects individual identity to significant degrees, and simply changing a character description hardly ever allows for an adequately rounded characterization. The question remains, then, of whether or not an appropriate use of racebending is possible with film corporations such as Disney whose narrative makeup relies largely on the exclusion of race dynamics between characters.
For instance, Disney princesses as a whole, regardless of racebending, are for the most part placed in speculative historical and culturally singular environments where racism is not an issue. The only exception is Pocahontas, yet even then the indigenous community in the film is established as parallel in violence to the White settlers; Pocahontas is made a model minority, John Smith the figurehead of righteous colonialism, and racism only exists as long as it victimizes White characters as well as POC. Likewise, in the MCU, discourse around race is kept to a bare minimum, with Black Panther being the only film that directly engages with it at all (notably, Black Panther was a massive success because of this). Therefore, without any real ability to examine race at all, Disney’s methods of racebending inevitably fall to either colorblind narratives that erase the concept of racism, or decorative performances of culture which at best expand diversity at face value and at worst promote problematic stereotypes (again, with Black Panther being the sole exception).
This dilemma of course extends beyond Disney alone. In J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, discourse around the racebending of Hermione Granger has sparked debate much akin to that of Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury and Amandla Stenberg’s Rue. With a thematic narrative that functions as an allegory for racism and antisemitism (i.e. Voldemort is largely representative of the Nazi regime in WWII), and given Hermione’s established identity as a minority/marginalized character already, it would make sense for Rowling to extend the metaphor onto a more overt analysis on race. Yet the series as a whole is not effectively grounded in any ethnic heterogeneity, and characters such as Cho Chang and Padma and Parvati Patil exist in its fictional landscape as mere flashes of diversity in an otherwise exclusively Caucasian world. Would a Black Hermione written into canon by Rowling be anything other than tokenizing? If racebending in this instance manifested only in a change of character description, surely not. If, however, Rowling or any other author decided to engage closely with race through racebending Hermione, it would call for a massive reinterpretation of the canon which has been generally closed off from the concept of race altogether.
There are some instances in which the re-adoption of beloved characters as POC has been a much appreciated decision among fanbases. Recently, the character Miles Morales, a new iteration of Spiderman as the son of an African-American father and Puerto Rican mother, has made quite an enjoyable impact on fans of Spiderman. In an article with the New York Times, writer Victor LaVelle commented on the impact such representation can have on audiences who don’t often see racially relatable characters on screen: “Other people may take it for granted that they have a face like a superhero’s. I’m happy my kids get to feel that way.” However, even then the association of both Miles’ father and uncle with crime in New York has stirred some viewers against its narrative, as well as the massive double standard that Miles inevitably is put up against as yet another iteration of Spiderman in the history of Spiderman timelines.
Only a few years ago we depended on racebending to chisel a space into the world of comic book adaptations that previously had none. However, the racial insensitivity dwelling within Hollywood’s filmic landscape is much more complex than merely a lack of diversity on screen. Both whitewashing and stereotypical tropes, with the racebending of White roles for POC only obscuring fundamentally archaic understandings of diversity and representation. Apparently, many franchises are hiding behind the curtain of racebending as if it will solve all of the problems of race innate to cinema itself. Giving more roles to POC is only a small step towards reversing Hollywood’s history of Othering POC; it is in no way a stopping point in this movement towards a more inclusive film industry.