out the whiteness of Hollywood as an industry. In her correspondence to several Hollywood insiders, she refers to “our white society” and self-consciously feels that after watching the historical drama about U.S. slavery, viewers at home and abroad would conclude that “we [whites] are or were terrible people.” She believes that white Academy voters such as herself would be hesitant to award a movie that envisions white Americans as cinematic villains, that showcases white-on-Black violence as a “cruel and brutal” yet integral and enduring mechanism of American race relations, and that depicts a narrative of Black suffering that is downright unpleasant for most whites to relive. Laura’s quote demonstrates how easily criteria besides sheer filmmaking (even filmmaking described as “brilliant”) enter into decision-making about what kinds of movies receive recognition during the annual ceremony. Race and racism are explicit factors governing how Hollywood insiders contemplate and evaluate movies. In Hollywood and in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, representation is important for members of all racial groups to equally impress their opinions and subjectivities on crucial decisions in cinema.
Key aspects of representation in a culture industry can be visualized in the “cultural representation pyramid” shown in figure 1.1. At the bottom of the pyramid are symbols and images. A reminder of the slogan “if you can see it, you can be it,” both images and symbols typify visible monikers of representation that indicate early signs of inclusion in popular culture. Recognition at the Academy Awards and other awards ceremonies is a form of symbolic representation. Images and themes in movies also provide racial symbols of inclusion.
Figure 1.1. Cultural representation pyramid.
Once a group has established visibility in symbols or images, its members might subsequently pursue advocacy for numerical representation. Fighting for representation in numbers, groups emphasize demography, usually in the form of landing roles in films or attaining adequate employment in jobs. The threshold of representation might be tied to the group’s population share. Struggles for numerical and symbolic representation is ongoing, and the goal may take a long period of time to attain—if parity, or something like it, is at all in reach. Meanwhile, numerical representation promises greater presence on-screen and behind the camera. Symbolic and numerical representation, however, can be present but with little real improvements toward alleviating inequalities. Symbolic representation, for instance, could be only superficial yet not substantive. Despite an appearance of harmonious inclusivity with visible symbols, more telling signs indicate there are further layers to the story. Like symbolic representation, numerical representation is meaningful, but further dimensions of representation can be more insightful for understanding and alleviating racial inequality. Scholars and observers should critically examine representation in Hollywood under a microscope that goes beyond symbols and numbers.
Having achieved some improvements in numerical and symbolic representation, groups can stake citizenship claims in the dominant cultural canon. For example, Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing (1989), about racial conflicts on the hottest day of the summer in Brooklyn, New York, was inducted into the National Film Registry in its first year of eligibility for the honor and was deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant” by the U.S. Library of Congress.2 As voting members of the Academy, Black directors have a hand in influencing whose movies are memorialized during the Oscars as national cultural artifacts.
Presumably, the last goal for attaining representation in cultural production is to occupy positions of power. In such positions, groups can control cultural output and steer flows of workers into and out of positions on cultural projects. Therefore, beyond the numbers of directors present or absent behind the camera or the number of victories at awards podiums, rethinking representation to look more closely at qualitative measures of institutional representation—especially access to lucrative positions of influence—is a way to investigate in more depth how racial inequality happens in Hollywood. An institutional analysis of the contemporary race politics of representation in the film industry would need to be located in the dimension of hierarchical representation. Hollywood insiders, who have the power to shape cinema from within the industry, structure film production around unequal racial hierarchies and justify inequality using statements that value and privilege white movies and directors over Black, Asian, and Latino/a movies and directors. This Hollywood Jim Crow racial hierarchy, in which outright expressions about race matter for the sorting of individuals and films in the movie industry, privileges whites at each level of the cultural representation pyramid, whereas African Americans and other marginalized racial groups find underrepresentation at each level. For film directors, racial disparities span what kinds of movies they direct, which movie genres are prominent, how much movies cost, and which studios are involved. Hierarchical racial representation has implications for individual careers and for the broader impact that directors and their movies can exert on global societies.
Symbols of progress, numbers of people in jobs, markers of cultural citizenship, and placement in positions of power and prestige reveal multiple levels at stake in the complex struggle over racial representation in the film industry. All this happens within the nation’s sociopolitical context. The nation’s racial context, for instance, plays no small role in shaping groups’ access to each level of representation. The racial climate determines which groups are most likely to be employed and to occupy positions of power just as much as it influences whose cultural citizenship rights are realized or dismissed and what images become commonplace occurrences or rare anomalies. Examining various measures of representation provides a new look at racial inequality in Hollywood, while new reasons to explain away those inequalities circulate among those who are positioned to protect their advantage.
Symbols of Progress
Steve McQueen’s win was quickly followed by other victories for Black talent behind the camera. In fact, the 2017 Oscars ceremony was a landmark year of firsts for Black workers in technical, behind-the-scenes positions in cinema. They received an uncharacteristic barrage of recognition in nominations and awards. An unprecedented four Black directors were nominated for Best Documentary Feature: Ava DuVernay for 13th, Roger Ross Williams for Life, Animated, Haitian-born brothers Raoul Peck and Hebert Peck for I Am Not Your Negro, and Ezra Edelman, who ultimately won Best Documentary Feature, for O.J.: Made in America. Barry Jenkins, for Moonlight, became only the fourth Black director in Academy Awards history to receive a directing nomination. African Americans also received nominations in film editing and cinematography. What is more, the 2017 Oscars marked the first occasion that three Black-cast movies were in consideration for the top honor of Best Picture. Three Black producers received Best Picture nominations: Denzel Washington for Fences (2016), Pharrell Williams for Hidden Figures (2016), and Kimberly Steward for Manchester by the Sea (2016). Ultimately the Barry Jenkins–directed Moonlight, an adaptation of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s novel In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue, took home the Best Picture win.
Upon the announcement of victory, smartphones fanned the room. Blinking lights from the handheld gadgets captured the moment on video. Barry Jenkins accepted the award to raucous applause from a crowd of cheerful, teary-eyed onlookers with mouths agape. With a look of wondrous disbelief, he stepped up to the microphone and uttered, “Even in my dreams, this could not be true. But to hell with dreams—I’m done with it, because this is true. Oh, my goodness.”3 The momentous energy was palpable throughout his speech. Fists pumped toward the ceiling. Clearly, something of magnitude had been accomplished, something beyond expectations, and it felt good.
Via symbolic gestures such as Academy Awards accolades, Black directors can influence audiences and effect change through their creative works. The producer of Moonlight, Adele Romanski, a white woman, spoke about the symbolic power of the Best Picture victory for uplifting young African American teenagers: “And I hope even more than that, that it’s inspiring to people—little black boys and brown girls and other folks watching at home who feel marginalized and who take some inspiration from seeing this beautiful group of artists, helmed by this
