After the murder of George Floyd almost two years ago, as racial reckonings across America exploded with unprecedented candor, I watched from my post-newsroom life in Dubai. Many sectors sought to address the Trump era’s theater of indignities with a renewed commitment to inclusion and justice. Within mainstream journalism, I was deeply moved by how many stories other reporters of color began to share about their own newsroom exclusions: ambitions interrupted, gaslighting, lack of mentorship, and narrowed expectations. Perhaps these were not acts of physical violence—but they were an extension of structural privilege and entrenched white supremacy. The stories were familiar and resonant. Editors, hiring managers, and recruiters pledged to do better, and some followed suit. But prescribed solutions can become a new kind of entrapment. In mainstream film writing, for example, diversity hires like myself are in danger of becoming the new desired and desirably diverse critics.
Enjeux au Canada
En France, le célèbre roman d’Agatha Christie « Dix petits nègres » a été renommé en 2020 »Ils étaient dix », bien des décennies après les Américains et les Britanniques. « On ne peut plus rien dire » se sont offusqués certains. Alors… censure liberticide et insupportable ou régulation nécessaire ?
Although Canada’s media establishment may claim things are better, where are the opportunities for Indigenous film and TV creatives this year and next? It’s still a tough slog as a producer or filmmaker to receive funding, get opportunities to be employed in higher and mid-level positions where the decisions are made, or to have any control. There are success stories, but many Indigenous filmmakers in documentary, film, and TV are struggling to get the support they need from the major Canadian funding bodies.
Kadon Douglas, Executive Director of BIPOC TV & Film, was recently interviewed by WildBrain—a leading global children’s content company—as part of their Black History Month celebrations.
Une étude qualitative à l’échelle nationale examinant les facteurs qui contribuent à l’inclusion/l’exclusion des femmes autochtones, afrodescendantes et racisées des événements de réseautage de l’industrie.
The idea of change looks different for different people. For independent filmmakers, especially those who are struggling, a constructive change means more funds and opportunities for those who have been historically left out. To those previously and currently in positions of power, change could mean reform, or making minor structural tweaks rather than building foundations from scratch. It could also mean projecting a semblance of change, because real change would be far too risky for the status quo.
Canadian film and TV is currently grappling with crucial questions about racism and equity. Creators from under-represented communities have formed a collective voice that is louder than ever. In response, funders and broadcasters have instituted new programs and allocated money to increase the amount of BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of colour) led production in Canada. This work is just beginning, but the needle is slowly moving.
The range of Arab stories seen in mainstream media remains narrow — and it’s time to give them a greater voice.
Michelle Latimer, who recently directed the CBC television series Trickster and the documentary Inconvenient Indian, has risen to become one of Canada’s most prominent names in Indigenous filmmaking. However, Latimer’s long-standing claim of Indigenous identity is facing scrutiny after she claimed to be of « Algonquin, Métis and French heritage, from Kitigan Zibi Anishinabeg (Maniwaki), Que. » in an Aug. 14 National Film Board (NFB) news release.
The Canadian television industry needs to nurture BIPOC-led shows to success the way it did for Schitt’s Creek
The past few years have ushered in a “Black renaissance” on American television, with Black artists starring in and creating more shows than ever before. In Canada, though, it might as well still be 1998, when there were so few Black characters on TV that I, a Black girl growing up in a predominantly white suburb, would cling to any Black character — always in a supporting role, never the star — who wasn’t a one-note stereotype.
It’s been touted as an “empathy machine” that lets users see what it’s like to have a disability—but people with disabilities often can’t use it