A personal reflection on why representation matters for Black girls, from the media portrayals of the past to today’s diverse, empowering stories.
As a new mom and a Black woman, I am acutely aware of the responsibility of shaping not just the physical wellbeing but also the confidence and mindset of my young daughter.
Growing up, the media landscape was very different than it is today. I didn’t grow up with YouTube, TikTok or Instagram.
There were little opportunities for me to see young Black girls like me on television, in magazines, or on the products I used.
Instead, the portrayal of Black characters often fell into stereotypical or limited narratives, leaving me to navigate a world where my reflection was rare.
Outside of music videos or films about Black people related to violence, drugs or being slaves, diverse black influences in the media content I consumed were scarce.
The closest I came to seeing other Black girls was on “The Cosby Show.” I resonated with Denise, even though her character was older than me. Then, when “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” came on, although I connected with Ashley, I resonated even more with Hillary.
Once Brandy came on the scene, it was amazing to see her as a Black teen on the cover of mainstream magazines like Seventeen. Until then, I had never seen a Black person on the cover or inside the pages of Seventeen magazine.
When she started starring in her own show, “Moesha,” it was life-changing. She portrayed a regular, middle-class Black teenager with her Black friends and family, living a normal life. Her parents weren’t doctors or lawyers; they weren’t rich or living in mansions like the Huxtables or the Banks.
It took me a while to realize that it wasn’t normal not to see myself represented. I didn’t feel like I was missing anything until I began to see myself in niche spaces, like Essence Magazine, prompting me to wonder why I didn’t see myself in bigger, mainstream spaces.
After all, Black people have always influenced music, culture and fashion. So why weren’t we telling our own stories in mass media?
Why was it that I could only see myself in just one magazine?
Fast forward to today, social media has empowered young Black women to create empires simply by being themselves, using beauty products, doing their hair, and showcasing their passions for fashion, cooking, traveling, and more.
This normalization of representation brings me joy and pride for her.
I remember discovering YouTube videos with young Black women doing their makeup and showing their hairstyles. They posted them on YouTube and shared them on Google+.
This was at a time before Fenty Beauty when all we could do as young Black women were to go to the drugstore, buy two or three different shades of foundation, and mix them together to find our right shade of brown.
Not only did beauty brands not have a huge selection of Black and brown shades to choose from, they were making even more money from us because we had to buy multiple shades just to find our right shade of brown.
When Rihanna created Fenty Beauty, it redefined the entire landscape and narrative of beauty for Black and brown girls like me.
Social media has created avenues for not only confidence and empowerment of young Black women but also wealth generation and entrepreneurship in ways we couldn’t have imagined just a few years ago.
YouTubers who started filming their beauty routines for fun, posting them on YouTube, and then sharing them on Google+, are now millionaires.
But more than that, my daughter sees herself on TV. She sees herself in the books that we read together at bedtime, and she sees herself on the products that we use.
Twenty years ago, my daughter would have never seen herself on her first sippy cup. She would never be watching “Gracie’s Corner” or “JoJo & Gran Gran” on YouTube every morning, and I would never have the opportunity to read to her a book called “Bedtime Bonnet,” a story about a little Black girl losing her bonnet before going to bed.
She’s only ever seen the “Little Mermaid” with Halle Bailey as the lead. She’s only ever watched the version of “The Lion King” that features the voices of Donald Glover and Beyoncé.
We’ll discover more as she grows up. I certainly don’t want her to think that only Black people exist.
She sees other cultures when we go to events and when we go outside to play in the park. I definitely want her to intermingle with all cultures and understand all races and all religions.
But when we’re watching a movie or reading books, I never want her to ask, “Well, what about the Black people?” or “Where are the little Black girls?”
As she continues to grow and achieve one milestone after another, and as our adult conversations around race and inclusivity evolve, I hope for a world where every child sees themselves reflected in the stories they hear, the characters they see, and the faces they admire.
A world where representation is not just a goal, but a reality for all, where diversity is celebrated and embraced in every aspect of life.
And as I shape the experiences of my daughter, I hold onto this hope, knowing that with each step we take towards inclusivity and understanding, we pave the way for a more equitable tomorrow for all our children.
