If you’ve been anywhere near a screen, you cannot have missed the buzz around Wunmi Mosaku absolutely bodying her role as Annie in “Sinners.” The intensity, the presence, the way she commands every scene? Iconic! And right alongside her was Jayme Lawson, as Pearline, who delivered a performance so affecting it lingered with me long after the movie ended. Seeing two dark-skinned actresses deliver such a powerhouse performance in a film that’s got everyone talking feels like more than just great acting; it feels like a moment. And honestly, it plugs right into something bigger I’ve been noticing.
Scroll through Netflix, Prime or Showmax, or even just your IG or X feed lately. Do you see that something is shifting in Hollywood. We’re starting to see more faces that look like many of us – properly dark-skinned, gloriously plus-size – not just as the sassy sidekick or the one-liner comic relief, but taking center stage, just like Wunmi as Annie. And honestly? It’s about damn time.
For the longest time mainstream film and television seemed to operate under this unspoken rule: leading lady = light-skinned or white, usually slim. Desirability, importance, power, romance, aspirations complexity—-these were often packaged into white, or at best light-skinned slender figures. It’s like the default setting we were all conditioned to accept. But flip on your screen now. You see Wunmi Mosaku sensual and phenomenal as Smoke’s lover in Sinners. You’ve got the force that is Uzo Aduba giving Sherlock Holmes a run for his money in The Residence. We saw Issa Rae step into the intense world of Hotel Reverie as a queer leading lady. Then there’s Naomi Ackie, stunning and fierce while taking down her white love interest in Blink Twice. And how about Viola Davis not just playing the US President in G-20, but doing it while embracing her femininity? Think about Taylor Paige’s raw energy as Zola in Zola, Lupita Nyong’o’s exceptional acting in A Quiet Place: Day One, Simona Brown in the mind-bending Behind Her Eyes or Olivia Spencer’s scary performance in Ma. Seeing India Amarteifio and Arsema Thomas lead Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story felt revolutionary for a period drama. For dark-skinned women, these aren’t just performances; they’re statements. We are embodying a broader spectrum of characters than ever before.
Why does this even matter so much?
Because representation! Seeing yourself, or people who look like your sister, your aunty, your friend, reflected on screen as nuanced, desired, powerful, intelligent, flawed, human beings does something powerful. It validates your existence in a world that often tries to sideline you. It chips away at the dangerous, limiting beauty standards that have been shoved down our throats for generations. It tells young Black girls, especially those with deeper skin tones or fuller figures, that their stories are worthy, their beauty is undeniable, and their potential is limitless. We’re moving, thankfully, beyond the era where the only time Black women got major awards buzz was for playing characters deep in suffering, agony, or historical trauma – think Lupita Nyongo in 12 Years a Slave or Mo’Nique’s incredible but harrowing performance in Precious. While these stories hold undeniable historical and social significance, their prevalence risked confining the Black female experience on screen to one of perpetual struggle— but those aren’t our only stories. We also need to see Black women leading romantic comedies, sci-fi adventures, magical fantasies, corporate dramas, and everything in between, just like everyone else. By the way, let’s give props where they’re due – visionaries like Shonda Rhimes, Tyler Perry, Jordan Peele, and Ryan Coogler have been instrumental in allowing Black women to lead across diverse genres reflecting the true breadth of their talent and lived experiences.
But omo, the journey hasn’t been smooth. Remember the absolute meltdown online when Halle Bailey was cast as Ariel in The Little Mermaid? The racist backlash was so intense that the hashtag #NotMyAriel went viral. Why does the skin color of a fictional human-fish matter that much? I guess some found it hard to believe that a Disney princess with dreadlocks could be considered beautiful enough to capture the heart of a white prince. Or more recently, the disgusting pile-on against Francesca Amewudah-Rivers for being cast as Juliet in Romeo and Juliet’s theatre production. The same people screaming about “historical accuracy” (for a mermaid!) are often suspiciously quiet when Black characters get whitewashed in adaptations. In the The Hate U Give? Starr Carter is described as dark-skinned in the book, yet the (admittedly brilliant) Amandla Stenberg, a lighter-skinned actress, was cast. It sparked conversations, and rightly so. This wasn’t a one-off thing, either. Think back to the conversations around the film adaptation of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun. Many felt that the casting of the incredibly talented Thandiwe Newton didn’t fully capture the specific darker complexion implied for characters like Olanna in the novel.
Instances of colorism within Black narratives, fuels the very real anxiety surrounding upcoming projects like Tomi Adeyemi’s Children of Blood and Bone, where fans desperately hope the protagonist Zélie described as “coal-skinned” will be portrayed authentically, and not by a lighter-skinned actress deemed more ‘palatable’ by outdated, colorist industry norms. We’re holding our breath, hoping they finally get it right this time.
The spotlight is shifting, but the work to ensure it illuminates fully and fairly is far from complete.
The entertainment industry is undeniably evolving, with dark-skinned and plus-size Black women claiming central, complex, and diverse roles in greater numbers. This represents a vital correction to decades o stereotypical portrayals, affirming the multifaceted nature of Black womanhood and challenging outdated beauty standards. Is the work done? Not even close. The spotlight is shifting, but the work to ensure it illuminates fully and fairly is far from complete. There’s still colourism to fight and stereotypes to dismantle. But seeing these incredible black actresses shine, despite the challenges and the occasional hate, gives us hope. It shows that the industry can change, and it reminds us that our stories, in all their shades and sizes, deserve the spotlight.
