Recap: The Everdeen in the room

Over the past few days, we’ve watched the activity around Elyse’s “Hollywood Whitewashing” post explode on Tumblr. We got a real kick when our post made its appearance on Oh No They Didn’t. (Does this mean we’ve officially arrived?) The response across the web has been overwhelming, both in its sheer mass and because a lot of people appreciated the message. We are happy to have contributed to the conversation and (one can hope) perhaps to have inspired some folks to reevaluate their perspective. With a couple of exceptions here on our site that didn’t adhere to our comment policy and thus were removed, it’s nice to know that most of our readers, even if they might not agree, know how to get their message across without insults or attacks. So thanks for that, guys, it gives a little hope about how people communicate online. Even if we won’t always agree, civil discourse will still help us all understand each other better and pave the way to progress.

Across the various platforms there have been some reactions that misunderstood the post or were quite negative, but obviously that is the nature of communicating openly on the Internet about important and controversial topics. I don’t expect Elyse to take on further responsibility of elucidating her point. She said what she needed to say; she is not here to hand hold through the process of education on the subtleties of racism. However, I am going to take a break from my general duties of scheduling and editing here at GQ (I promise I’m not locked away in some dark room and they do feed me well) to write down a few thoughts of my own, to add to the ongoing dialogue.

Specifically, I want to talk about the main point of contention I saw repeated: the casting in The Hunger Games used as an example in Elyse’s post. In various iterations, the comment most often repeated has been: “This is not a good example to use in your post; I didn’t read Katniss as anything but white.”

As you know, multiple other examples were mentioned to support the main message, and even more examples could have been included but weren’t for the sake of conciseness (‘dapperbitchmalice’ over on Tumblr named quite a few, if you’re interested).  The casting in The Hunger Games is highlighted in the article not because it is the most blatant example, but because it is the most subtle and, thus, more insidious; it is indicative of the predominant way of thinking about characters when interpreted from page to screen; it is yet another example of hope dashed.

Suzanne Collins’ descriped Katniss as having “straight black hair”, with “olive skin” and “gray eyes.” Yes, one could say that this is a white woman with an “olive” tone to her skin. However, the description is ambiguous enough to allow for a person of color/mixed race. (By the way, a significant number of readers understood POC as specifically Black, so I thought I’d point out the definition being a more empowered term to be used in place of “non-white” or “minority” in general.) It is enough of a basis to have made countless readers see that inkling of hope in the book. It’s also not entirely outside of the realm of possibility for Katniss to have taken after their father, while Primrose looked like their mother, with blonde hair and fair skin.

This is why the casting process was imbued with so much meaning for a lot of fans: there was opportunity for interpretation that would have represented progressive risk-taking on behalf of the Hollywood creators and faith in their audience to feel and believe in the story, even if the main protagonist wasn’t portrayed by a white woman. Unfortunately, not much opportunity was given for creative interpretation, as the casting notes called for a young Caucasian woman specifically (source). Perhaps this isn’t a blatant enough example of whitewashing, but it’s no less hurtful and pervasive; whatever you might call it, it is still an indication of the damaging undercurrent of thinking that motivates the casting decisions in Hollywood.

By singling out that one example as a flaw within the bigger rhetoric of Elyse’s post, I’m afraid a more important point goes overlooked. Saying “I agree with your point except for The Hunger Games example” isn’t really an agreement with the message as a whole – just a compromise. You know what people of color have been force fed for decades by the media conglomerate? Backhanded compromises, peace offerings meant to placate any criticism that might arise over the Hollywood machine. “Here, we just gave you a Black man in a supporting role, now why won’t you just leave us alone for the next couple of years?” “But look, we cast someone who LOOKS like you, kind of, even if the actor doesn’t actually share your ancestry. Why aren’t you happy?” It’s just a shrugging of shoulders and a dismissal. “There, there,” it says, “Have a cookie and maybe you’ll forget.”

I am also not swayed by the argument that since the author is behind the casting choices, then the entire thing is beyond discussion or reproach. Of course Collins is going to be supportive! (I’m not even going to mention the obligation she may feel to stand behind the very people who help bankroll her future security). Jennifer Lawrence is a skilled young actress and we’re not casting aspersions on her just because she got the part. (Her turn in Winter’s Bone was gripping and belied her short acting history). But what if a young actress of color had been given the opportunity in the first place, one who also was talented and brought a fierceness to the role? Collins would probably say the same thing. She’d say, “I am so thrilled!” With grace and humility she would support her franchise. Or at least, one hopes she would. When I saw this conversation quoted, I wasn’t so sure:

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Some readers have expressed real frustration that white actors were cast in the roles of Katniss and Gale, who they felt were clearly described as biracial in the book. Do you understand or share any of that dismay Suzanne?

COLLINS: They were not particularly intended to be biracial. It is a time period where hundreds of years have passed from now. There’s been a lot of ethnic mixing. But I think I describe them as having dark hair, grey eyes, and sort of olive skin. You know, we have hair and makeup.

Collins’ response is a shrug. She doesn’t really express an understanding of why so many people were disappointed, even though readers didn’t randomly build a tenuous possibility of Katniss being a POC: there was enough in the description to plant that seed of hope. However, this bit really gets me: “We have hair and makeup.” We have the cosmetic tools to make a fair skinned, blonde actress look like someone else: an ethnically mixed (as Collins allows above) character who could have been portrayed by an actress who wears that “hair and makeup” day in day out. It is in her cells, pores, hair follicles; it is who she is; yet it’s still not going to be preferred.

I’ve been most dismayed (but not surprised) by the defensiveness echoed among the diehard fan base. Somehow, there is only one right interpretation for Katniss and any deviation from it is just unacceptable? Why does people’s protective nature take over to such a degree, when it comes to protecting the supposed story of a fictional character, that when a real human being expresses real human hurt, all defenses go up? Whatever happened to empathy, as a society? I can’t understand it. I hope to never understand it, because my faith in humanity and its capacity for compassion is already slipping. This article on Jezebel about the outcry against Rue being Black is downright rage inducing.

Someone said that the arguments within Elyse’s post were “grasping at straws.” In a way that they didn’t intend, they were also sort of right about the bigger, heart breaking point. That slight possibility that Katniss might have been interpreted differently points at the desperation many readers and viewers of color feel in their search for characters they can relate to. I am a white woman, from Eastern European stock.  Lily white. Pale as a ghost. With freckles and light brown hair (although hair dye indicates otherwise). I do not have to go through life thinking, “Why aren’t there other women in film and television who look like me?” (I’m not counting body image issues, that’s a whole other topic of discussion). I understand my privilege and the way it has served as a source of perspective my whole life, which is why I appreciate when it’s challenged. I wish that we could all set aside pedantic, feverish adherence to some sort of canon (which, I repeat, has been interpreted in a number of ways by readers) and try to understand the bigger picture. This is not about Katniss, or The Hunger Games, but about the way staid ways of thinking, motivated by yet another color (green), continue to disenfranchise thousands of people. It’s about people who are really hurt and wish you would just listen.