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Bridgerton proves that color-conscious casting alone is not good enough by Kulsum Gulamhusein

This article is a finalist in the 2021 DC Student Arts Journalism Competition. Click here to learn more about the competition.

When I first saw the trailer for Bridgerton, I could hardly wait for Christmas Day. As a dedicated fan of Scandal, Jane Austen, and Gossip Girl, Bridgerton seemed like the perfect amalgamation of my favorite genres. Trailers promised a regency era drama following the scandals of London’s elite, narrated by a mysterious observer through her gossip column. More exciting than the storyline was the inclusion of a diverse cast; a shock compared to most historical dramas available. Undeniably, I did enjoy Bridgerton—it was a great distraction for the two days following Christmas. But as I learned more about the show and its creation, I realized there were several problematic aspects I had missed in my festive turkey-induced haze. 

Bridgerton has been criticized for many things: a scene involving dubious consent, a lack of historical accuracy in costumes, and a lack of true diversity. I want to focus on the diversity issue, specifically the way the show was cast, and how it reflects changing diversity standards in the media industry. When interviewed, series creator Chris Van Dusen claimed to have used “color conscious” casting to fill roles in the show. Color-conscious casting acknowledges the dimensions that race can bring to a story, and in most cases, embraces them. It is an increasingly popular alternative to color-blind casting, which asks us to suspend reality and imagine a world where race is not important. Color-blind casting was initially introduced as a way to bring more actors of color on screen. As discussions about the effects of race on everyday life have become more mainstream, color-conscious casting has become more present. There is a growing debate as to which casting approach is more appropriate, and it’s important to consider the ways we incorporate diverse casts into period dramas where racial diversity is not historically accurate. 

Period dramas can generally be divided into two categories: those with the goal of telling a historically accurate story, and those that prioritize the drama and plot. Shows that intend to be more historically accurate tend to be less diverse. Think Downton Abbey, which follows the lives of the aristocratic Crawley family in early 20th century Yorkshire, England. When asked about the lack of diversity in his shows, the creator stated that “you must create something that is believable” and that the settings of his shows were not historically racially diverse, therefore, in the interest of historical accuracy, the cast could not be racially diverse either. 

For shows that are less concerned with historical accuracy, and wish to include racial diversity, there exists a spectrum ranging from color-blind to color-conscious casting. When casting Hamilton—the hit historical musical— the producers put out a call for non-white actors. Having a racially diverse cast tell the stories of the founding fathers—white slave owners—adds another depth of contemplation to the way we remember American history. In contrast, the inclusion of actors of color has no effect on the story being told in The Personal History of David Copperfield (2019), an adaptation of Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield. Instead, the producers used color-blind casting to show that people from diverse backgrounds can have the same opportunities to be involved in historical dramas. 

Bridgerton sits somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, not really committed to color-conscious casting, but not color-blind either. The way that race fits into the storyline seems to have been an afterthought. Race was addressed once—in the fourth episode of the show—during a conversation between two Black characters, Lady Danbury and the Duke of Hastings. The conversation, which attributed the diversity of the society to love conquering prejudice, was so shallow that I wish they hadn’t included it. It certainly didn’t change or add meaning to the plot. The conversation seemed serious, but the topic was never addressed by any white characters, therefore implying that race is only important to POC, and not society as a whole. A truly color-conscious production would have woven the experience of being Black in a newly integrated society into the plot—or at least addressed it in more than one conversation. Such a shallow observation glides over the important and difficult conversations a conscientious show should be having about racial integration and equality. Since the explanation was so unsatisfactory, I would have preferred the show not include an explanation about why there were POC present. That way, I could have pretended that the showrunners had simply realized how talented actors of color are, and how absurd it is to leave them out of interesting narratives. The way that the showrunners chose to address racial diversity in the show made it seem forced, and as though the impact of having POC in a historical drama should only be felt by the actors or characters of color. 

There is, of course, criticism of both color-blind and color-conscious casting. Critics claim that color-blind casting either removes race from the equation or reduces POC to just their race. It also benefits white actors more than POC, because there are so few roles written with POC in mind. Color-blind casting has also been said to let Hollywood “off the hook” for creating stories about POC because they are being inserted into white stories. Additionally, as Angelica Jade Bastién wrote for The Atlantic, it perpetuates the idea that race is only important in stories that explicitly tackle it, rather than something that is ingrained into society. 

Once upon a time, color-blind casting was a great way to introduce POC into mainstream media, but it’s no longer good enough. Color-conscious casting is certainly a better alternative since it takes into account the way that race changes a character’s story, but we need to move beyond inserting POC into narratives that aren’t created for them. In order for color-conscious casting to be effective, conversations and plotlines about race need to be woven into the narrative, rather than shoehorned in and only addressed by characters of color, as was the case in Bridgerton. 

I would argue that shows that choose a racially diverse historical setting do the best job of thoughtfully including POC in historical narratives. Many shows become increasingly diverse over time to reflect the integration of society; this is especially true of shows set in the 1950s and 60s. Call the Midwife, a show set in what would have been a predominantly white neighbourhood in London introduces more cast members of color as the setting of the show becomes more diverse with time. The show’s many supporting cast members become increasingly diverse as the show progresses, and in the seventh season, a Black midwife is introduced to the main cast, to reflect the influx of immigrants from the West Indies. By choosing to write a narrative that integrates the stories of people of color in a historically accurate way, shows like Call the Midwife do a much better job of promoting diversity in TV than shows where POC are fit into roles written for white characters. They provide opportunities for actors of color to be involved in shows that value historical accuracy and are centered around white characters, without pretending that race isn’t an important factor. Rather than finding ways to add actors of color into white history, producers should be working to amplify diverse historical narratives that provide opportunities for POC to be involved in the film industry and share their rich histories. 

The lack of diverse narratives in TV and film is appalling. After the success of movies such as Crazy Rich Asians or Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, there is no reason to believe that a production centered around POC cannot be successful. If we are really going to tackle the lack of diversity in the film industry, we need to start by creating equal opportunities for actors of color, and that involves writing more diverse narratives. Not only is there a lack of roles for POC, there is also a lack of POC writers and producers in the industry. Both Hamilton and Crazy Rich Asians were created by people of the same race and similar cultural backgrounds to the actors, and the tone of both productions is incredibly different to that of productions where white showrunners have tried to practice color-blind or color-conscious casting. The very nature of race and race relations in the western world and film industry means that a white producer will never truly be able to understand the context of being a person of color, and how that will affect a character’s story—whether the intention is to address race or not. 

There needs to be greater racial diversity throughout the entire film industry, and we definitely need to move away from the idea that every character is white unless otherwise specified, or every period drama is set in England. POC are every bit as talented and deserving of a wide array of roles as white actors, and their history is just as interesting and screenworthy. We need to start providing POC with the same opportunities as white actors to be successful in any genre on screen. 

Kulsum Gulamhusein is a junior at Georgetown University where she is majoring in government, and minoring in Arabic and Public Health. She is an Assistant Editor for the opinion section of The Voice where she also enjoys writing about politics, popular culture, and campus issues. Kulsum feels that her view on life is strongly impacted by her international background, and this carries into her writing. In her free time, she enjoys exploring this brand new reality that is living in the U.S.

This article originally appeared in The Voice, a Georgetown student publication, and was edited by the author to fit the word length of this competition.

C’mon C’mon is a heart-wrenching portrayal of the fleeting nature of childhood by Thais Carron

This article is a finalist in the 2021 DC Student Arts Journalism Competition. Click here to learn more about the competition.

By Thais Carrion 

Director Mike Mills (“20th Century Women”) gives viewers another profound examination of the fragile relationships between children and adults in this month’s new release, “C’mon C’mon.” 

The film follows radio journalist Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix) and his Nephew Jesse (Woody Norman) as they are forced together, navigating the awkwardness of getting to know and trusting one another while Jesse’s mother Viv (Gaby Hoffman) is called to tend to Jesse’s father, who is in the midst of a manic episode. What was supposed to last one week quickly turns into many and Johnny finds himself bringing Jesse along on a cross-country trip as he interviews children of immigrants in urban cities about their expectations of the future. Equal parts heart-warming and heart-wrenching, we watch as Jesse and Johnny form an unlikely bond and wrestle with each other’s fraught emotions and vastly different perspectives on the situations that unfold before them. 

Despite the fantastical nature of the time spent out of school and traveling with his uncle, Jesse’s erratic emotions are at the forefront of the story. His frustration with the lack of agency in problems so closely involving him is palpable and no doubt resonates with the confusion of childhood at the whims of adults. 

The black and white medium combined with the radio-journaling subplot of “C’mon C’mon” gives way to an experience rich with sound and texture unlike any contemporary color-filled movie out today. Putting his recording equipment in the hands of Jesse, Johnny unknowingly creates a whole avenue of expression where through things often overlooked; the rolling sounds of skateboards at a skatepark, the rumbling of a train thundering forward on tracks or the overwhelming sounds of a city during rush hour all come to life through Jesse’s handling of the microphone. These sounds set against an emotive sound track of powerful orchestral compositions all come together to set the mood of the trip: an exciting, fragile and fleeting moment in the lives of both Johnny and Jesse. 

While the relationship between an endlessly curious child and a contrastingly jaded adult comprises the core of this film, many other themes like past and future perspectives, the difficult role of mothers in patriarchal systems and the ways in which society is increasingly placing responsibility on the shoulders of younger generations to “fix” the mistakes of generations past all make an appearance throughout. Viv’s role as a mother is captivating and well-conveyed, as she is tasked with shouldering the burdens of all those around her with no respite or time for selfishness. 

The integration of Johnny’s work project into the main storyline fell flat in a way that nearly turned the film as a whole into a socially insensitive version of a “white savior” storyline. The decision to have Johnny (a white cis-gender heterosexual adult male) give voice to diverse perspectives is a troubling one that distracts from the significance what he records. Furthermore, the fascinating ideas of these children of American immigrants included through Johnny’s interviews are organized around Jesse’s storyline. The overall effect is a disappointing tokenization of the important diverse perspectives included throughout the movie, subjecting them to a supporting role in what is a primarily white narrative. 

One of the most enjoyable facets of the movie, along with the use of rich sound and visual texture used throughout, is the varying references to contemporary works of literature to set the emotional scene and signal a shift in theme. Quotes from a wide range of books provide short interludes and give the audience something to ponder through the events unfolding on screen. In the final moments of the film, one particularly intimate scene between Johnny and Jesse quotes “Star Child” by Claire A. Nivola, encompassing the fleeting sense of the beautiful yet painful chaos that is the experience of growing up: 

“To visit planet earth, you will have to be born as a human child… There will be so much for you to learn, and so much for you to feel: Sadness, joy, disappointment, and wonder. Over the years you will try to make sense of that happy, sad, full, always shifting life you were in, and when the time comes to return to your star, it may be hard to say goodbye to that strangely beautiful world.” 

Mills gives audiences a culmination of beautiful camera work and intricate audio detail, treating the transitory nature of childhood with the utmost care and respect. As the movie winds down and Jesse and Johnny’s time together comes to a close, both must come to terms with the intangible nature of the memories made. The audience is similarly forced to come to terms with the inevitability that Jesse will soon grow up and forget these memories despite his best efforts to remember them, while Johnny is left watching from a distance. Ultimately, “C’mon C’mon” is a work of art. 

Thais Carron is a contributor on the Life section of American University’s The Eagle and is editing at John Cabot University’s paper, The Matthew, during her semester abroad in Rome. She has published 5 articles on The Eagle Online since September 2021 in both English and Spanish and has had the opportunity to interview filmmakers and museum curators both local to DC and internationally. Throughout her time studying International Relations and Art History in DC, Thais has developed a deep interest in Art History and Literature and greatly enjoys writing book reviews and museum pieces. 

Interstate-10 by Craig E. Flaherty

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prelude: a small fire along the banks started with
the crumpled pages from the great american
poetry 19th century anthology
esquire magazine covers
placemats from memorable restaurants
diploma certificate from the fast food academy
and institute of corporate culinary
achievement letters of recommendation
the blessing from the pope after the ninth
child graduated parochial school
the fire melts the plastic st. christopher
mounted on the pressed wood base
the death certificate for baby john doe my
child my baby my infant
blurred on the covered gurney swiftly
trotted past the delivery room door
but the dam broke and swept it all charred
unresolved black ragged
pasted at the high water mark on spillway
walls inside storm drains
the melted plastic attracted bottom feeders
swollen paper was eaten by roaches at the
end of time the dam broke
the heavy metals spewed into the water tables
profits poured into offshore accounts
promises of ” ’till death do us part” drowned
the kids learned that up was never there
after vietnam everything was in and out to mars
promised contracts hid the lead laced water
politicians passed the buck

allemande: after the long flight he sleeps in his
sister’s bed
downstairs her awareness slowly melts
she had said “come” but he waited a week
a day and a half left of her knowing eyes
3000 miles from his home grown tomato garden
three varieties for salads sauce and stuffing
black plastic over the soil
mail-order fertilizer from a midwest co-op
root feeding through five foot pvc pipes sunk
next to each stalk and wooden pole
in a bed laid along the sunniest side of his house
we talk on the phone “not much is working”
the twenty four hour nursing care
the three approaches to his sister’s needs
water no water ice chips water soaked towels
for the lips but “death prefers dryness”

courante: twenty years ago from his mother’s
dying the drone buzz
the plane that never arrives approaches
just beyond the regular focus
of the ear but leaps to mind when
reminded of the predestined crash
he held her hand he asked what needed asking
precious freeing words
does she remember that he left?
has she done something for herself?

gigue: his sister’s friends jockey for control come by
tell him to take care of this and that but
his sister has made it clear that she does not
want his hand on anything when he shows
her the five photos from home joy

sarabande: the weekend caregiver knocks because
her daughter can take care of the kids friday
saturday and sunday nights
the family’s from Botswana and he cooks her
corn on the cob in the microwave which she
thought impossible and they eat two buttered
ears apiece “please stay we’ll cook more”
his sister remembers him for a day and a half
the rest taken up with sleep and the gathering
whimpers of coma

fugue: “no can’t get a god damn map from the gas
station because the attendant speaks korean”
the dam breaks
intimacy has no patience with words
“yes saw an ad for new balance at big five
my computer is broken
the air conditioner does not cool
grocery stores? japanese specialty outlets”
I tell him “devoted to my new balance shoes
fifteen years the all leather edition which they
stopped making” what follows
“I ordered the same model number wrote
it down they had it but skimped ” always
a gotcha
“I soaked the shoes inserted trees they still
pinched where they skimped”
my friend says “had the same at LL bean
wore out working the garden hope the toms
get water while I’m away”

bouree: I tell him “I can find a big five store” near him
off I-10 just go north to exit 7B because I’m
at my computer and I do find it around the
corner with the numbers he gives me I warn him
“do not confuse the shopping mall with the strip
mall across the street where the big five is located”
he comes home with new shoes garden shoes snow
plowing shoes wash the car shoes new balance shoes

badinerie: my dead mother of 95 years abrupt dismissive
slips breaks in on the line to say again “I’m going away”
then the silence not to be broken everyone’s bridge
to pass over

the controlling angels gather outside the door to argue
about water

Craig E. Flaherty, writer of poems, reader at poetry groups, publisher of Coastline Window Poems, The Nature of Light, The Glossy Family, presenter at the Takoma Park Thursday Poetry Reading,  poetry group leader, member of Writing a Village. His poetry has appeared in Viator and The Raven’s Perch. A lifelong  performer of church music, organist, carilloneur, pianist with Dotke Piano Trio, husband, father, grandfather and accompanist to Jordyn Flaherty.


Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/33/Tonkin_Highway_from_Great_Eastern_Highway_bridge_second.jpg

Two Poems by Anneliese Donstad

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all we have is desperate hope and astrology charts

I want to capture this moment where we interlace our arms around each other
standing beneath ursa minor hearing the gentle movement of the Missouri River.

I want to capture the magic of a first touch
when feeling another human body close to yours is once again electrifying but petrifying.

I could feel your eyes wander my body when you thought touch was forbidden for us.
Now that you’ve touched me, do I still feel forbidden?
If I’m not forbidden, will you still want to touch me?

I fear the collapse of this newness will be like a dying star,
caving in on ourselves in magnificent explosion
for I know we only get one first touch, one moment like this.

The voices in the distance remind us of our connection to humanity
like how the constellations let us know we are a part of the universe.

I swear I can see our names spelled next to each other in the stars
like we are our own constellation.

This moment is a star that we hold in our palms until it inevitably supernovas.

Ash Wednesday

You cross ashes onto my forehead
and say Remember you are dust.

I am not dust, nor am I the dirt
beneath your feet.

You are not my god
and I will not get down on my knees
to pour oil on your feet
and wipe it with my hair
while weeping for you.

I rebuke you
like demons that harbor
inside of swine
throwing themselves
over cliffs.

You do not deserve my tears.
You do not deserve my dust.
I am not dust. Not yet.

Anneliese Donstad is a genderqueer lesbian writer in their second year of the MA program at the University of South Dakota. Their work explores the intersection of religion, trauma, and lesbianism.


Image: Dmitry Brant, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Three Poems by Michele Keane-Moore

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The Parabolic Flight of the Hummingbird

I will hypnotize you

With my ecstatic flight,

Back and forth,

Flashing ruby red.

Casting my spell to declare

All of this mine–

The flowers, the nectar, and you.

Reigning over my green kingdom,

 Tiny but supreme,

From the bare branch of a dead tree.

My wings have carried me

Miles too numerous to count

To prepare for this moment.

I drink deeply,

The sweetness of life

Filling my tongue.

The Assumption of the Geese

I hope that when my time comes,

Like the geese gathered on the river at dawn,

I will hear the call,

Spread my wings,

Lift my heart,

And rise with those around me

As one unified voice.

Casting my soul above me,

Following it into the sun’s light,

Joined wing tip to wing tip,

Lighter than the surrounding air.

Rising above the water

That protected us through the night,

In that one glorious instant

When all that has weighed us down disappears.



Walk with Me

Under foot, the ground is softening,

The ice turning to mush,

The mud starting to pull at my boots.

Water in the atmosphere

Catches the first rays of the rising sun

and fractures into a piece of rainbow,

Making color visible like believing in

The best outcome.

The red-winged blackbirds

Are singing from the tree tops

As if they can claim the future

Through their song.

The river that was bound

By ice is flowing again and rising.

In the renewed warmth of the sun’s embrace

My heart beats a little faster

And squeezes harder,

Expanding blood into my gloveless hands

Like an expression of joy.

Michele Keane-Moore is an avid birder and photographer who takes her inspiration from the natural world.  She teaches biology as an adjunct at Western New England University and tries to get outside every day.  


Photographs courtesy of the author.