Black in 2023: Looking Back at Black Pop Culture
ALEXI ROSENFELD/GETTY IMAGES
Written by Brikitta Hairston
The end of 2023 calls for a deep reflection into the disparities that exist between cultures, even as we live through the same series of events. It would of course be easier to reflect on 2023 in a nonsensical, familiar, reminiscent way – but that does not do justice to those who took courage and bravery to the test.
Specifically, Black pop culture has always had its inner secrets, invisible writings on the walls and hushed truths. But 2023 brought forth a true crack in the dam that left the Black community drowning in discourse, dissolution and, dare I say, desolation.
I’ve been privy to the discussions regarding the #MeToo movement in the entertainment industry, namely in TV and Film. I hadn’t seen such a strong dissonance in the treatment of the accused until Jonathan Majors was arrested for assault in March of 2023. Majors saw a slow yet accelerated rise to fame and name recognition, following multiple blockbuster films in one year including his entrance to the illustrious Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Before the allegations, he co-starred in Creed III with the well-known actor and producer Michael B. Jordan, and Devotion with actor and producer Glen Powell. Majors’ arrest came soon after the films’ respective debuts, likely affecting the box office numbers for Creed III as well as the tail end of Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania.
I recall the start of threads on Twitter, almost half and half for and against Majors. But in between, I saw a fair amount of those questioning the seemingly immediate arrest, attributing it to Majors’ race.
If we rewind, we may recall that Majors – in several interviews – made strong statements on Black masculinity. He had women flocking to support and admire him, and men all but calling for his head. So when the arrest happened, the dam split. His supporters used his race as a shield and those always indifferent shrugged with insolence.
What I saw, as a former domestic violence victim advocate and current sex crimes investigator, was the law doing what it has been expected to do – what it has been begged to do – and those jaded by past negative experiences unable to see the justness in what occurred.
Domestic violence reports always result in arrest when there is good cause and no deliberate indifference. In layman’s terms, when it is more likely that the report is true – though not yet proven beyond a reasonable doubt. But because the public has seen previous examples of victims speaking up to report their abusers and receiving no law enforcement assistance – no arrests, not even a restraining order or protection order – they didn’t want to find that Majors’ race had nothing to do with his arrest.
Where I saw this racial divide proven, was when his publicity firm dropped him as a client and the studios behind a few not yet-announced projects made announcements about their intentions to recast him. Meanwhile, dozens if not hundreds of his white Hollywood counterparts have had similar accusations but never received similar consequences.
This illustrates the fact that Black people are still treated as citizens below the rule of law before they’ve had their day in court. Sometimes, unfortunately, by our own. When Majors’ victim came forward, the onus was on his accuser’s race. I saw the tweets, the TikToks, the stitches and deep dives – the covert belief, or rather expectation, that a Black girlfriend would not have reported him – notwithstanding a hidden belief that a Black woman would not have been believed to begin with. And it became this curdled mix of belief that Black women should be protecting Black men, even when they are abused.
Finally, it came to fruition, when actress Meagan Good publicly stood beside Majors, announcing a romantic partnership and, suddenly, she was the maker and breaker of all victims. She – according to the court of public opinion – was a traitor to women and to abuse victims. It was up to her; it was her responsibility to change him or endure. But never, was it considered, that their partnership could be abusive too.
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Similarly, it seemed like the Black community was the only community to speak out when Meg Thee Stallion finally had her judgment day against her shooter, Tory Lanez. Before 2023 began, there was still an ascending discourse about the validity of her report, the small think pieces and bold statements hailing her as a liar, a traitor, and worse.
What I saw – again, as someone trained in domestic violence victimology and as someone who has investigated those same incident types – was a clear indication of what all victims go through. Similar to the 5 stages of grief: at first they deny, then they are enraged, and soon they try to rationalize before they sink into a dark place, only coming out once they have accepted their victimhood. Sometimes that results in leaving, or reporting, sometimes it does not. But, Meg had the strength to come forward and only then did she see what the public’s true sentiment of her was. I would hate to state so boldly that she would not have received that same treatment if she were a white woman but I have unfortunately seen it play out.
Before we even dive into the intersectionality of victimhood, let’s first start with what we have always known. People don’t believe victims of sexual abuse and violence – no matter the race, no matter the gender. When the victim is of a different race than their accuser, they are more likely to be believed when the accuser is of a marginalized race. But when two marginalized races pit against each other – well then, the victim is a sellout, a traitor, going against their community, tearing their fellow people (most often men) down.
It’s disheartening to see, of course, but it does not erase the true issue at hand. Abuse of women is never taken seriously but when you are a Black abuse victim, you may as well be living below the rule of law regardless of your social status, your income, or your notoriety.
Another example: P. Diddy settling a lawsuit for $30 million in December was not enough to turn the tide. Multiple corroborated statements and in-depth, harrowing accounts of abuse were not enough to shift the narrative: It still became, “How can she do this to someone who supported her and made her who she was?”
Cassie (Cassandra Ventura) was a 90s and early 2000s sweetheart. Her music, her personality, her persona, so many tried to replicate. As much as she was her own woman many saw her as an appendage of P. Diddy, his not to be reckoned with. And still, our community, as much as we come together for the greater good, is as much as we divide ourselves hoping to grasp at respectability and acceptance from our white world.
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It was my humble takeaway, that it is only the desire to be seen as ‘equal’ and as members of society that causes some of us to tell victims of abuse to never say a word. Otherwise why… why hope to silence those who speak out? Is it to siphon their own history of abuse that never saw the day of light? Is it because it means they would have to accept themselves as abusers?
I will never forget, presenting my sexual assault and consent trainings, and being left feedback saying “This can’t be true, because if it is then I’m a rapist, and no one has ever told me I assaulted them.” Oh if I could have spoken to that anonymous feedback, if I could have said – kindly – “Well, yes.”
It is denial, rage, rationalization, and darkness that trap us in a hold just short of acceptance. As I look back on the year for our Black celebrities and personalities, I urge others to do the same. Ask the hard questions and come to the hard conclusions. We are not a monolith, no, but we ride from the same preconceived notions and imparted beliefs, that we have to protect each other come hell or high water. No matter our socioeconomic class, our one or two or no-parent households, it’s like we were siphoned through the same simulation. It is not my aim to pit us against the silent culture of other races and compare us to the rise and fall of other households, so I will instead say that it is not so simple to reduce each other to our race. It has left us in petty squabbles striving to escape cognitive dissonance that we will never reach.
To be Black in 2023 meant to strive and to seek anything seemingly above where we stood to the exclusion of everything else, a place in society free from ridicule, as we have been taught to believe is the way up and out of this world. I do not have the power to say for certain – if that is true or false – but perhaps I will spend time in 2024 working to find out which is which.
Brikitta Hairston (she/her), is an investigative victimologist, and graduate of the University of Iowa with a B.A. in English and an M.S. in Criminal Justice. Her words are in OffColour Magazine, Radish Media, Carefree Mag, Better to Speak, and Giddy Magazine.