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What also makes this show interesting is how it handles her plus-sizeness; she’s not obsessed with her weight, constantly dieting or shying away from love. On the contrary—she’s out there enjoying her life which makes one look past her size to focus on who she really is. While her journey isn’t perfect, it’s definitely worth watching a plus-size woman navigate her life.
This show is exciting for countless reasons but one has to wonder: What if Jane was African American? It could be argued that the representation of a plus-size, African American woman on film and television's pursuit and success in romance and intellectual stimulation would vanish. She would immediately become asexual, nurturing and/or sassy and utterly undesirable—emotionally and physically. The fact that there aren’t shows like Drop Dead Diva showcasing a plus-size, African American woman claims this group of women aren’t dating, having sex or capable of stimulating conversations, let alone complex, fulfilling lives.
This lack of diversity and creativity is a direct result of a fat-shaming culture that continues to subscribe to stereotypical images of the African American woman. In “Mammies, Matriarchs, and Other Controlling Images” Patricia Hill Collins argues that the mammy image “serves a symbolic function in maintaining oppressions of gender and sexuality.” If the image of the black woman is relegated to an asexual nurturer who lacks desirability, then she’ll never serve as a romantic lead. She won’t benefit from having her story told. The mammy image is prevalent in media culture from Gone with the Wind (1939) to The Help (2011). While these roles may provide opportunities for African American actresses, they simultaneously pigeonhole them into one particular, unflattering role.
The image of the mammy isn’t limited to African American actresses playing maids; there’s the new mammy, an evolved image that’s found its way to film in the form of the Black Best Friend. Instead of nurturing the white family, this particular mammy nurtures the white female lead. She remains one dimensional and asexual with no storyline or thoughtful dialogue. According to the LA Times’ Greg Braxton, black best friends, “live and work with their [white] friend but are not really around all that much except for well-timed moments when the heroine needs an eating companion or is in crisis.” If the mammy image has relegated thin African American actresses to supporting, one dimensional characters then its effects are even more detrimental to plus-size, African American actresses.
Being overweight hinders an actress’ ability to play a romantic lead because most people don’t find obesity sexy. In “Hollywood’s Invisible Love Interest: The Overweight Black Woman” on Jezebel.com, Kristen West Savali says, “obesity, for many people is synonymous with undesirable. Unlovable.” This may be true but Drop Dead Diva continues to do well featuring a plus-size white woman as a romantic lead; its success ultimately implies it's not overweight women who are unlovable but overweight, black women. Savali argues that Hollywood’s exclusion of plus-size, African American women as romantic leads is a reflection of society’s inability to see them as loveable. She says, “there are no overweight, black women cast as desirable, love interests in film because many of us find that unbelievable…then Hollywood finds it unmarketable [therefore] the very real love stories of overweight, black women continue to go untold.” The lack of thoughtful stories surrounding a plus-size, African American woman isn’t just an oversight in terms of filmmaking or television programming, it’s a reflection of societal views that tells a particular group of women they’re unimportant.
This isn’t to say there have been no thoughtful films surrounding plus-size African American women. For example, Queen Latifah’s Just Wright (2010) casts her as the plus-size bestie-type tomboy who gets the jock guy from the perfect, Barbie-like girl. Although Latifah plays the nurturing mammy in this film—she is the romantic lead and she’s not nurturing a white family but instead an African American man. Even though she’s down in terms of being a great friend, she manages to be desirable with a hint of sexuality. For example, there’s a sweet, romantic love scene between Latifah and her leading man. It manages to capture the moment in a tasteful way without going into the intricacies of plus-size sex (which is definitely worth talking about). In the end, the viewer is happy for the leading lady as she gets her man. Even though Just Wright scratches the surface of the complexities of a plus-size, African American woman, it still manages to showcase one in a positive, desirable light.
The future of film and television relies heavily upon the reflection of reality. Plus-size, African American women fall in love every day. They have amazing careers, interesting lives, great sex and compelling conversations. Relying on Hollywood to explore the depths of this group of women will yield dismal results. Instead, plus-size, African American women should tell their own stories; this would provide them with the opportunity to subvert controlling images while giving voice to their authentic selves.
Chantell Monique is addicted to Harry Potter, Broncos football and Rom-Coms. She’s an English professor and screenwriter; she currently lives in Los Angeles.
