Disney's unveiling of The Princess and the Frog, whose heroine Tiana is a Black restaurant worker in 1920's New Orleans, marked a conspicuous break in tradition for the animation studio juggernaut. While the nature of Tiana's race certainly increased the film's cultural significance, especially when compared to previous Black animations, it didn't kick-off the epic shift in mainstream animation Black audiences had hoped for. It would take another decade and public outcry over lack of representation for Disney—and other animation studios—to not only publicize their commitment to diversity but follow through on that promise.
And, surprising the hell out of me, they (sort of) have.
The 2020's saw the release of the first Black lead under the Pixar umbrella with Soul and a revival of Disney Renaissance classic The Proud Family. And Disney+ premiered Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, Netflix released My Dad the Bounty Hunter, and Sony Pictures Animations will release its web-slinging sequel Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse all in 2023 alone. It's taken a long time to get to this point, but where is this point exactly? A wishful, calculated fluke? Or a bar setting Golden Age for Black characters migrating from minstrel to margins to center?
Won’t You Shake a Poor Sinner’s Hand?
Not to be dramatic but to fall down a rabbit hole of American animation history as a Black woman is to fall down a deep dark hole of the kind of torture I suspect only goes down at Guantanamo Bay. Yet...here we go. Strap in for a (very) brief rundown of some notable moments in Black animation history:
When you think of classic Disney characters, I'm betting "Sunflower the Centaur" doesn't come to mind. Sunflower is the young, black centaur featured in Disney's 1940 seminal cinematic musical Fantasia. If that still doesn't ring any bells, it's because she's basically been scrubbed from any official version of the movie you'll see today. Sunflower is—or was—a textbook example of a "pickaninny", a derogatory caricature of a dark-skinned child of African descent, and not an uncommon feature of early animation.
In a bewildering moment of "hold my beer", Warner Bros. Animation Inc. would release its own version of the caricature shortly after in 1943's Coal Black and de Sebben Dwarfs, a blackface take on one of its arch-rival's classics. (Which, yes, I did watch.) Uncomfortable to sit through is a gross understatement as Coal Black's characters are resolutely grotesque. And, while it's easy to dismiss as the product of a bygone era, I would also just like to note that as of this writing, the film holds an uncomfortably high 6.1/10 rating on IMDB, with a 2023 (yes, this 2023) reviewer calling it "An absolute treasure!"
Moving on.
It wasn't until the 1970's that Black animated characters were finally humanized. The era proved that yes, even cartoons could be a source of Black pride, bolstered by the modest success of The Jackson 5ive and The Harlem Globetrotters Saturday morning cartoons. A smattering of similarly paced and toned black led animations would follow over the next few decades, usually revolving around a celebrity or pair of celebrities at the height of their fame—like Mr. T, Kid n' Play (produced by Marvel), and Hammerman (a series starring M.C. Hammer as a superhero with magic dancing shoes...yup, that happened).
The 90s were certainly a time for Black animated characters—Vince LaSalle of Recess, Miranda Killgallen of As Told By Ginger, Susie Carmichael of Rugrats (voiced by the same actress), and Gerald Johanssen of Hey Arnold! immediately come to mind, just not as the leads of their own stories. This would change with 2000's DC superhero series Static Shock, 2002's Fillmore!, a Law & Order-esque parody centered on a reformed juvenile delinquent turned Safety Patrol, and the recently revived The Proud Family, now louder and prouder.
Serves Me Right for Wishing on Stars.
Let's fast forward a bit to 2009—Barry Obams has just been inaugurated, Kanye West has just interrupted Taylor Swift's VMAs speech, and James Cameron's giant blue people solidify his status as "king of the world!" And what's that on the horizon? Why it's Disney Animation Studios’ first Black princess.
There's no doubt Tiana's adventures are worlds away from earlier, jazz-fuelled Black fairytales, but that doesn't mean the cultural milestone wasn't without its controversies—then or now. Directed by Disney stalwarts Ron Clements and John Musker (of The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Hercules, and later Moana fame), The Princess and the Frog is set in 1920s New Orleans. It centers on Tiana (voiced by Anika Noni Rose), a poor yet determined young Black woman who dreams of opening her own restaurant. Soon, she meets a talking frog named Naveen (voiced by Bruno Campos), claiming to be a prince cursed by the villainous witch doctor Dr. Facilier (voiced by veteran actor Keith David, a man who could make a Target receipt sound like a Langston Hughes poem).
Based on the Brothers Grimm story The Frog Prince, the film wasn't without its detractors. For starters, in early concept art, Tiana’s original occupation was as a maid to a rich white family. And even when this was changed, many took issue with the fact that Tiana spends so much of the film as a frog, reminding them of Disney's less than stellar preference of primarily featuring people of color as animals rather than in their own skin. Which brought to light an equally important conversation about having BIPOC voices not just in the recording booth, but behind the scenes. A message it would take Hollywood another decade to internalize.
There’s Been Trials and Tribulations.
In the wake of nationwide protests against police brutality, calls for real change spread, and have finally reached the far corners of pop culture. And 2018 would mark the dawn of a new era. On the small screen, Cartoon Network Studios' endearing and imaginative Craig of the Creek, a pure celebration of imagination, proved Black led animations could be relatable to all audiences of all ages and all races. And on the big screen, Sony Pictures Entertainment would deliver a raucous, smart, self-referential adventure flick Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, a film so mind-bogglingly perfect, I could easily spend the rest of this piece fangirling my face off. But I'll keep it short...
The animated masterpiece starts with a familiar Peter Parker (voiced by Chris Pine) recounting his early days as a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. After some really fun references to the Sam Raimi trilogy, it then cuts to Peter trying to dismantle a massive supercollider built by the Kingpin (voiced by Liev Schreiber). He's then killed in the battle, and the film shifts to Brooklyn teenager Miles Morales (voiced by Shameik Moore) minding his business until one day he's bitten by a radioactive spider and develops mysterious powers that transform him into the one, but not only, Spider-Man.
While my love for the material certainly extends beyond the film's choice to focus on Miles Morales, it's not without mentioning. The Spider-Man franchise has focused on the same character doing the same thing, and often in the same way for far too long, no matter what strides toward diversity and representation the comics industry makes. And Into the Spider-Verse, and its success, highlights what a wasted opportunity that's been. And it also must've caused every other animation studio to let out a collective "Oooooh. Sssshhiiiit" because the number of Black-centric animations to go into production shortly thereafter seemed to increase ten-fold.
In a post-Spider-Verse era, Sony killed it again with the 2019 Academy Award® winning short Hair Love, a heartfelt film that centers around the relationship between a Black father and his daughter Zuri. It's also set to become a 2D animated series on Max called Young Love. On Disney Jr., Questlove teamed with the network to produce the short-form animated series Rise Up, Sing Out. And Jordan Peele teamed up with animation legend Henry Selick (of Coraline fame) for 2022's Wendell and Wild, a highly ambitious, pro-community, anti-private-prison, stop-motion film about death and dealing with one’s personal demons.
Then came two true highlights of my Black History Month: Disney's Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur and Netflix's My Dad the Bounty Hunter, two shows that expertly meld STEM and Black culture. The former follows Lunella Lafayette (voiced by Diamond White), as a 13-year-old super-genius who protects New York City with the help of a ten-ton red T-Rex. The latter follows siblings Sean (voiced by JeCobi Swain) and Lisa (voiced by Priah Ferguson) who accidentally discover that their father Terry (voiced by Laz Alonso) is a dad by day and intergalactic bounty hunter known as Sabo Brok by night. What's most interesting is neither shy away from breaking the nuclear family formula. Moon Girl (like The Proud Family) centers on a multi-generational family of parents and grandparents living under one roof. And My Dad features parents who are separated yet still in a positive co-parenting relationship (the first of its kind I've ever seen). And each branch into much needed new territory for the genre while staying connected to experiences specific to black children. Moon Girl has an adorable af episode where Lunella is made to feel embarrassed by her natural hair so she uses her super science skills to "fix" the problem (spoiler alert: she learns her hair is not a problem, and it doesn't need to be fixed). And My Dad expertly sprinkles in what I'm going to affectionately call "Black culture easter eggs", nods to things recognizable to Black people tucked among the planets and stardust.
The Evening Star is Shinin’ Bright.
Boy I hope this isn't a fluke. With the decade between The Princess and the Frog and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse seeing only a handful of mainstream animated shows aimed at non-adult audiences that explicitly center on Black leads and, more specifically, their families, I'm desperately hoping this new boom is just the beginning of an ongoing trend. With more Black animators, Black creators, and Black writers—Black Musker and Black Clements—telling their own stories, and creating characters who are treated with the same level of care and detail as their environment, it's more crucial now than ever. And if I'm right, history will mark this as the start of a Golden Age of Black media. And just the trough of a wave of 2D and 3D vibrant celebrations of Black culture and communities on Earth and across the galaxy.
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