According to Gray, representations of blackness on TV in the 1980s resulted not only from shifts in the social and cultural ideology of the time, but also due to the changes that occurred within and around the big three television networks (ABC, CBS, NBC). These changes included the addition of a fourth network (Fox), a decline in viewers due to the rise of cable programming, new technologies such as video games and VHS tapes and recorder, and the political and institutional reorganization of the television industry. Narrowcasting was used as a strategy by the networks, defining audiences according to more precise demographics that included race, gender, class, and age, as a way to negotiate “an increasingly complex and competitive environment” (66). Gray says that the networks were beginning to lose affluent and middle-class whites to cable and so turned to “an underserved and reliable pool of viewers” who were there “waiting to be served (or, at the very least, acknowledged)” (67). The networks’ interest in representations of blackness during this time was not driven by “sudden cultural interest in black matters or some noble aesthetic goals on the part of executives” but rather, by economics.
Writing around twenty years after Gray’s chapter on the social production of blackness in the 1980s, Warner discusses a similar point in her article about Issa Rae’s Insecure. She says (in reference to Gray’s more recent work) “that it is neither goodwill nor a belief in equity that define when networks take on Black shows; rather, that they serve a purpose in establishing or reestablishing a brand through calculated risk”. In both texts, the authors point out that underneath these “risks” or strategies to engage with representations of blackness are assumptions that the “normative,” mainstream, and primarily targeted audience is white. This made me think of the assumption of a centered whiteness in media and technology beyond the scope of television. We see how pervasive this centered whiteness can be (despite perhaps the good intentions of the producers and creators of media and technology) when story after story appears reporting on the racial biases of various types of media and technology, ranging from social media algorithms to something as seemingly innocuous as an automatic soap dispenser. Media and technology shape culture as much as reflect culture and often inadvertently reveal just how deep systemic racism runs.
In the current television landscape, racial bifurcation or colorblind casting maybe be strategies employed by networks to secure a “universal” audience, but it also seems like in the age of endless streaming platforms there is more niche marketing and narrowcasting than ever. Streaming platforms seem to offer series which indeed cater to specific demographics, allowing viewers a more diverse selection to choose from than broadcast or even cable networks were able (or willing) to offer. While this feels liberating in a sense to see diverse identities and stories reflected on screen, especially stories that have historically been excluded or misrepresented, is there perhaps a risk of going too narrow? If we are continuously and willfully exposing ourselves to only the stories that matter to us or are in line with our identities and politics, what gets left out?
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