The Myth of Tokenism in Media
They’re a poorly written character. Let’s leave it at that.
As efforts to promote diversity in storytelling becomes more popular in the mainstream media, critics and viewers alike have called out their favorite creators for performative advocacy in the name of underrepresented voices. In other words, “tokenism,” the act of involving a small number of people from an underrepresented group to give the appearance of an equitably made film. In the wake of #OscarsSoWhite, tokenism remains a heavily debated topic within the media.
However, by its very definition, tokenism is an odd concept. Tokenism assumes that the Straight, White Male is the “normal” character, and that if a creator does not create a quality diverse character, they have automatically failed that community as a whole. It holds diverse characters to a higher level of quality than the average Joe. However, when the poorly written White Male enters the story, we don’t hold them to the same standard. We never question why creators chose to include the bland and unremarkable Fred Jones from Scooby Doo, nor do we criticize J.K. Rowling for her addition of the otherwise uninteresting brute Vincent Crabbe from Harry Potter. In the same regard, diverse characters are just characters that happened to be from diverse backgrounds. Unless it is central to the plot, creators should not be expected to explain why they felt the need to make their characters diverse. In such, we shouldn’t be blaming Marvel Studios for their efforts to include more women in their catalogue of heroes: We should be blaming Marvel for making an awful hero named “Captain Marvel.” Her awful writing does not stem from the fact that she is a woman, rather the laziness of the writer’s room.
I should note the enduring misconception that incorrectly conflates “token” characters with “offensive” and “stereotypical” characters. Offensive characters that encapsulate harmful stereotypes about certain identity groups, like the nerdy and social awkward Indian kid Baljeet Tjinder from Phineas and Ferb and the sexualization of Harley Quinn from Batman, should be regarded in a completely different conversation. There’s nothing to be discussed because these characters are bad: “Bad” in context of its social implications, “bad” in context of the narrative, and they leave a “bad” mark on the writers’ credentials. They aren’t subject to debate like typically labelled “token characters” whom, according to concerned critics, are only present to fulfill a diversity quota.
Those who describe this concept of “forced diversity” in media as “inorganic” and “unrealistic” should reconsider modern American society, or even the world as a whole. As we step into our neighborhoods, we meet lots of diverse people from a wide range of backgrounds. We would never question why we had met a Muslim family at a neighborhood barbeque, so why would we question the author’s choice when we find a hijabi in a novel like Magnus Chase by Rick Riordan?
The same people who bash creators for playing into “forced diversity” oftentimes expect diverse characters to fulfill deeper narrative purposes by exploiting their identity for trauma pornography. When we see a Black character on-screen, must we expect them to delve into the complex history of slavery or inner city poverty and violence? Must we expect an Asian character to rebel against their strict immigrant parents as they choose their artistic passions over education? Must we expect a woman in a high position of power to confront misogyny in the workplace? Don’t get me wrong: I consider myself a fan of many creators who have done incredible work portraying these issues with the nuance and care that they so rightfully deserve, including The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, the Oscar-nominated movie Hidden Figures, and On the Basis of Sex. However, expecting every diverse creator to be obligated to write a movie about serious issues that plague their community or expecting every piece of media that features a diverse character to delve into such issues is plain offensive. In the eyes of anti-tokenism critics, a diverse story only has merit if it features some sort of struggle that relates to a featured marginalized group.
That kind of rhetoric is nothing short of disgusting. After all, marginalized groups are aware of the struggles that they face. They have nothing to gain from watching their pain unfold on-screen. Demanding more stories about the struggles of marginalized groups in order for their White, straight, cisgender, able-bodied, able-minded, and neurotypical counterparts to be able to “experience” it for themselves without proposing any solution to the problem is a distasteful excuse to profit off of the suffering of those underprivileged groups. The perverted consumption of trauma for a supposed form of “woke enlightenment” before returning to a life of comfort or, worse still, for entertainment is highly unethical.
There is only one way to promote more diverse storytelling: Tell more inclusive stories. If we continue to wait until characters “organically” manifest into thin air, we will never reach our goal of a more representative media. This myth of tokenism unfairly criticizes diverse characters for merely existing. Creators do not owe us perfect justification for the inclusion of diverse characters. The Indian-American actress Mindy Kaling puts it best: “My role is not just artist. It’s also activist because of the way I look. On so many shows and movies, race was a gesture, and in mine it’s the premise. I can’t ignore that what a lot of people see is an Indian woman who doesn’t look like a Bollywood star. It piques their interest, and they’re not bad for wanting me to tell stories about it, and I’m not wrong for not wanting to. I want to fill my desire to write vibrant, flawed characters, but then also be a role model to young people. It’s stuff that I think about all the time.”
